


Parallel

by old_blue



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Asexual Character, Case Fic, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Other, Pansexual Character, Platonic Cuddling, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Sexual Experimentation, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Whump, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 13:44:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/old_blue/pseuds/old_blue
Summary: If you're an alien Sorcerer visiting Earth for the first time... And your friend is laid up with a broken arm. Then you might enjoy a relaxing trip to Oregon to investigate a haunted bed and breakfast.Nothing too dangerous. Or strange...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love ghost stories, and I've been itching to write one for this fandom. So I did. Sort of. And then I had to go and make it weird. Overall, this fic is pretty fluffy, but it does deal with some very heavy themes, mainly suicide and depression, so the rating reflects that. Also, features an original character from one of my other stories (Shuffle, ch. 5). No need to read that first, or at all.
> 
> Warnings: references to suicide, suicidal ideation, discussion of the death of a child (off screen), sexual situations, discussion of sexuality, recreational use of marijuana

Christine yanks the curtain back, making the metal rings screech on the rod.

She just stands there for a moment on the threshold, taking in the sight of him. One arm elevated and in a splint, his soon-to-be black eye and the gash at his temple.

Stephen can admit that it looks pretty bad. "Okay. I can explain—"

Christine shakes her head sadly. "Joanna said you were back here, dressed like a reject from a Hare Krishna temple, but I thought she was messing with me... And, yet, here you are..." She sighs, closes the curtain behind her, and steps into the ER cubicle. "What the hell, Stephen?"

Stephen opens his mouth to protest. But before he can come up with a good excuse, Christine notices the other person in the room, sitting silently in the guest chair.

"Oh, sh—" She jumps a little when she realizes they're not alone, but recovers quickly. "I'm sorry, I, uh... Hi." She glances back and forth between Stephen and the person sitting in the corner, obviously waiting for some kind of introduction.

Stephen groans. He's really not in the mood to explain everything right now, but he figures he still owes Christine. "This is my friend, At-ye." He glances over at At-ye and shrugs—might as well be totally honest. "Ze is a non-gendered alien from a planet in the Centaurus A galaxy, though that's not what they call it there. Obviously," he adds after a pause. He shakes his head. The pain meds are making him a little stupid. "At-ye is also a Sorcerer, and ze is visiting Earth for a week or so to help me out with some... magic stuff."

Christine just stares at him evenly. "I can never tell anymore if you're joking."

"I know it's hard to believe I have friends, but..."

Christine snorts at him and turns to the alien. "Hello, um, At-ye...Is that right? I hope I didn't mangle that too badly. I'm Christine." 

At-ye grins even wider, flashing perfect white teeth, and gives her a little, formal bow, brown robes sweeping the floor. Ze actually looks like a youngish Nepalese man right now—a little on the short and thin side because of the mass difference between a human and At-ye's natural form, but still very convincing. It's a good illusion.

"So... are you really an alien, or...?" 

At-ye just nods. Christine narrows her eyes.

"At-ye doesn't speak English," Stephen explains. Actually, At-ye's mouth and vocal chords can't even come close to approximating human language, but he figures Christine doesn't need that much information.

"Well..." Christine still looks doubtful. "It's nice to meet you."

She steps over to the mobile workstation, suddenly all business, and starts looking through his file. "You're giving me serious flashbacks here, Stephen." She shakes her head at the x-rays that are still up on the monitor, clearly displaying a distal fracture of his radius. "Kowalski is on call for ortho tonight. He'll be down when he can."

"Almanza is better."

She decides to ignore that and tabs through a few screens on the computer. "He's probably going to want some more imaging because of your history. And to make sure you didn't do any other damage." She pauses, reading. "Joanna has you on...morphine."

It's not really a question, but Stephen nods anyway. He's feeling pretty good right now. Loopy, but good.

"Bloodwork indicates an electrolyte imbalance. And low blood sugar." She gives him an accusing look. "Why'd they order bloodwork?"

Stephen looks away, feeling inexplicably guilty. "I was a little out of it when I first got here, but I'm all better now."

"Too much magic," At-ye offers helpfully, and smiles slyly over at Stephen.

He smiles back—he can't help it.

Christine just frowns in confusion at the alien's odd clicking voice. 

"At-ye said I used too much magic," Stephen translates.

They had definitely used too much magic tonight. It was worth it, though. They'd taken out a demon and an entire army of animated corpses. Stephen had battled the zombies—distracting them while At-ye snuck in and disabled the demon's network of protective spells. And, together, they'd banished the demon back to its own dimension. 

A very successful mission, despite the injuries he'd suffered. They'd kicked ass, pretty much.

Christine glances back and forth between the two of them, probably trying to figure out what's so funny. "Too much magic..." she mumbles. "Look, I'll talk to Joanna. I don't think she'd mind if I take care of that"—she indicates the cut over his eye—"while we wait for ortho."

Stephen nods. "Thanks." He really is grateful—would much rather have Christine do it than anyone else. He closes his eyes and shifts around, trying futilely to get comfortable in the torture-device they call a bed. He can hear Christine moving around the room, rolling a cart with a squeaky wheel over, then her gloved fingers against his scalp, the slight sting and burn of lidocaine, then nothing...

"Stephen? _Hey_..." Christine's gentle voice in his ear. "Wake up for a sec."

He blinks his eyes back open—must have drifted off while she was suturing him up. "Yeah?" His voice sounds rough, like he's been asleep for a while. It's not as glaringly bright in the room as it had been before. She must have dimmed the lights.

Christine smiles at him. "I've got other patients, so I'm going to go now. I'll come back and check on you when I get a chance." She glances over her shoulder. "I had a cot brought in for your friend. He looked pretty worn out, too."

Stephen forces himself up just a bit so he can see where At-ye's curled up and deeply asleep. The two of them have been awake for three days straight. It's not surprising that they're both crashing now.

"Okay," he mumbles. "Thanks." _Gods_ , he's tired.

"And Stephen..." That fond exasperation is back in her voice—he's gotten pretty used to hearing it, finds it comforting now instead of irritating. "Maybe you should just take it easy for a while. Go on vacation or something. Let someone else save the world for a change."

Stephen just grunts at that. _Sounds nice_ , he thinks.

Christine presses a quick kiss to his forehead, and then she's gone.

He shifts around on the bed and pulls his broken arm up higher, wincing a little at the pain that races through him despite the morphine. Maybe she's right—he could use a vacation, something a little less exciting. At least until he's healed up a bit. _Something easy_...

In the meantime, he'll try to get as much rest as he can before ortho comes by to torture him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The bed and breakfast is a large Victorian, painted a cheerful cream and yellow, in stark contrast to the dark pines and low clouds rising up around them. The Oregon mountains loom ominously behind the bright building. A large, wooden sign at the edge of the gravel driveway proclaims that this is the Garden Inn, est. 1912. The gardens, themselves, would probably be spectacular in the summer, but right now everything is trimmed back and dormant, dark shapes huddled low against the gray ground.

The owner's cousin is a Sorcerer. Or rather... he _was_ a Sorcerer, Stephen amends.

Master Rendon, now deceased. Apparently, he'd been a faithful disciple of Kaecilius, and left Kamar-Taj when their leader decided to throw his lot in with Dormammu. Stephen had never actually met the man—Peter Rendon had died at the hands of the Ancient One before he'd even gotten involved in that whole debacle.

Stephen is still not exactly sure how the relatives of a dead traitor had managed to get his cell number, but they'd been asking for his help for a while. He'd always been too busy with more pressing matters, like a demon commanding a zombie army, for example.

His loss (fractured radius) is their gain, however.

Now the ghost is impacting their business, leading to bad Yelp reviews, and they've gotten desperate. The Davidson's had brought in a priest to cleanse the room, a group of professional ghost hunters to do… _something_ , and the dead Sorcerer. Nothing's helped, apparently.

And, yet, a troublesome ghost should be an easy fix. Stephen's done it before. Most ghosts are temporary things, made of weak energy, and easy to get rid of. Time is the best remedy, but particularly stubborn ones might need a little extra push. Any Sorcerer should be able to handle it.

So either Master Rendon was just as terrible at using magic as he'd been at making good decisions. Or something else is going on.

Either way, solving the mystery of the haunted bed and breakfast seems like a nice break from saving the world—something easy to do while his arm heals.

He and At-ye had packed up and left Wong and the cloak in charge of the Sanctum for a few days. Stephen's sure the two of them will be able to handle anything that might come up while he's gone. And Wong seemed to be looking forward to getting away from his students for a while. Stephen's not sure just how much of a break he'll get. Secretly, he likes the idea of the cloak following Wong around like a lost puppy. 

Stephen still isn't clear on the rules regarding using magic around civilians—or even if there are any, Wong had always been very vague about that—so he opens a gateway in the forested area near the bed and breakfast. Sure, the owners know about the existence of Sorcerers, had even invited them, but actually seeing someone open a magic portal is a different thing entirely.

Of course, being winter in the Pacific Northwest, it's absolutely pouring rain, so Stephen conjures a simple shield over the two of them before they step through the portal. 

They splash through puddles up to the wide front porch. Stephen raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door is yanked open. 

A woman is standing there, a huge smile on her round face. About sixty or so, with short, curly gray hair, and thick glasses. She's dressed in a western-style plaid button-up shirt, and faded jeans. 

"You must be Master Strange! Come in, come in. I'm Sandy. This is my husband, Bill." She gestures to the man behind her. He's tall, almost skeletal, with a long face and thinning gray hair. Bill nods at them. "He's not a big talker," she adds.

They shuffle inside, off the porch and out of the damp air. The foyer is bright and stiflingly warm, spindly little tables with knick-knacks everywhere—tiny vases with flowers, doilies, and ceramic figurines. A fire burning in the fireplace under an elaborately carved mantle. More knick-knacks in a neat little row on top _. Charming_.

Stephen hates it already.

"Just call me Stephen, please—"

Mrs. Davidson drags him down into a hug before he can protest, squeezes hard around his ribs. "So nice to meet you, Stephen. We're so happy you're here."

Stephen manages to extricate himself as painlessly as possible. Luckily, Mr. Davidson doesn't seem like the hugging type.

Mrs. Davidson suddenly notices his black eye and the stitches, and she coos in distress. "Oh, you poor dear. You look like you've been in a brawl!"

"It's nothing. Just an accident."

She clucks at him. "Well, you just let me know if you need anything for that shiner."

At-ye peeks out from behind him, human disguise in place.

"Oh, and you've brought a friend!" Mrs. Davidson's eyes light up again. "I'm sorry, hon. I barely noticed you back there, you're so quiet."

"This is At-ye. He, uh, doesn't speak English very well. He's also a Sorcerer."

"Two Sorcerers!" 

Stephen's afraid Mrs. Davidson might try to pull At-ye in for a hug, too, but she just holds out her hand to shake. At-ye ignores it and bows politely. Definitely for the best—the illusion wouldn't mask the feeling of touching six long alien fingers.

She laughs in delight. "It's nice to meet you, too, " she says, overemphasizing each syllable.

Now seems like a good time to get down to business. "So, the haunted room...?"

"Yes. The Rose Room. You'll be staying up there, so you can investigate. Or do... whatever it is that you do. One of our nicest rooms, but some of our guests have had problems in there." She glances over at her husband, who nods seriously.

"What sort of problems?" Stephen asks. "You were a little vague when we talked before." Which is odd, since they'd been so eager to have him help out.

"Oh, you know... Ghost stuff." She waves her hand, chuckles. "Things moving around the room. Hearing voices, feeling like you're being watched, that sort of thing. Some people say they've seen the room change when they weren't looking." Another quick glance at Mr. Davidson. "It always looks the same to me..."

That's... also not very specific. Stephen narrows his eyes at her, but he nods. 

Mrs. Davidson seems eager to change the subject. "Now, do you two boys need an extra roll-away bed? Your room has a single king bed. But I can have Bill bring one up..."

Stephen answers without thinking. "No, thanks."

Now there's a wicked twinkle in Mrs. Davidson's eyes. "Oh, I see. Well, you two boys will certainly enjoy yourselves up there. It's our most romantic room."

 _Fuck_. Too late to take that back. "It's not... I mean, we're not—"

"Don't you worry, hon. We get all types here. We're very progressive, you know. Have to be, running a business like this. All love is the same in the eyes of God, that's what I've always believed."

Mr. Davidson nods sagely at this.

At-ye just glances between the two of them, eyes bright. Stephen can already feel a headache coming on. He clenches his jaw and says nothing.

"Oh, I'm sure you want to get started right away... Would you like me to show you up to the room?"

"I think we can find it. Thanks."

"Okay, then. Here's the key, dear. The room's just up those stairs and down the hall. Can't miss it. You just holler if you two boys need anything at all. There are some nice walking trails out the back, though in this weather, I wouldn't blame you for staying inside." She gives him a quick smile that's almost a leer. "Breakfast is served in the dining room, just through there, whenever you'd like it." She edges closer and pats him on the arm, like they're sharing a secret. "Normally, its six to nine on the nose, but you two are doing us such a wonderful favor, looking into this ghost business, that I'll make an exception."

Stephen has to suffer one more cuddle and a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and then they make their escape.

 

***

 

The haunted room is on the second floor, up the fairly impressive staircase, and down a hallway covered in a worn, but clean runner. The old wooden floors creak and groan under their feet, adding to the atmosphere. All of the guest rooms have names, carved into ornate brass plaques affixed to each door. They pass the Lavender Room, Peony Room, and Daisy Room, before stopping in front of the Rose Room.

The (allegedly) haunted Rose Room.

Stephen turns the old-fashioned key in the lock and pushes the door open. He takes a single step, but then hesitates on the threshold.

There's something in the room.

_What the hell is that?_

_Voices_ , he thinks. It sounds like a chorus of voices, all talking over each other. _No_... it's more than just that. Emotions. So many of them, all of them at once. Overwhelming.

He can feel At-ye stiffen beside him, but the alien doesn't say anything. They both just stand there, waiting.

Whatever it is, it fades quickly from intense, to barely there, to undetectable. Stephen frowns. Had he just imagined all of that?

He flicks on the light and glances over at At-ye. Ze is just looking around the room, curiosity on zir human features, whether at the terrible decor or the weird phenomenon they'd just experienced, Stephen can't say. For the first time since he'd agreed to take this case, he wonders if they might actually find something interesting.

"We should probably go in," Stephen says quietly. They step in together and drop their bags just inside, letting the door swing shut behind them. 

As soon as they're safely alone, At-ye gives a full-body shake and the human illusion fades. "That's better! I'm not used to holding a spell for so long. It's tiring." 

Stephen's surprised at the relief he feels once At-ye's back in zir natural form, even if anyone else would be horrified. The alien is short, completely covered in soft, chestnut fur, with two pairs of long, triple-jointed arms, a thick tail, and a flat, sloth-like face. Odd looking, for sure, but Stephen's used to odd by now. He has to admit it had been more than a little disconcerting to hear At-ye's familiar voice coming from a random human.

Stephen paces slowly around the huge bed, checks the attached bathroom. Nothing unusual so far, unless you count the decor...

The Rose Room has certainly earned its name. Everything is frilly, and pink, and covered in roses—the wallpaper, the duvet on the bed, the hooked rugs. There's a vase of fake roses on a side table underneath a still life of roses on the wall. The owners were obviously striving for elegant and romantic, but ended up on the far side of cloyingly tacky.

The tall, four poster bed would actually be a nice antique except that it's completely covered in lacy pillows. There must be at least thirty on there—all shapes and sizes. Stephen's not sure how anyone could possibly want or need that many fucking pillows, or even where they're going to put them when they need to use the bed.

He picks one up that must be a maximum of six inches square and looks like it was made from a doily. "What the _fuck_...?" 

Across the room, At-ye opens a closet and lets out a squeak of surprise. "Stephen?"

"Yeah?"

"There are extra pillows in here." The little alien sounds uncertain. "Is this normal? Your Sanctum didn't have this many pillows..."

"It's, uh..." God dammit, he's tired of explaining shit. "Some people think putting a lot of pillows on the bed makes the room more romantic."  

At-ye just blinks at him. The translation spell they're using is good, but it struggles with words for concepts their cultures don't share. Anything relating to sex, beyond the very basics, is completely foreign to a culture of asexual aliens. And Stephen's sure they have a million words for all the nuances of cloning that he's never had to think about. They've had some interesting conversations as a result.

"Uh, _romantic_ means relating to sexual reproduction, but in a less clinical way. More poetic." 

At-ye considers this. "Interesting. We just use them for sleeping or sitting on. You'll have to show me how you use pillows for sexual reproduction. Though, I can't really think of a way—"

"No, they're not... I mean, we don't. You _can_ , but that's not..." He shakes his head, starts over. "The pillows really aren't meant to be used that way. They're just supposed to look nice."

"Well, that's not as interesting." Ze shuts the closet, seemingly disappointed.

At least the bathroom is pillow free, though there are an unusual number of scented candles scattered around. The tub is huge, as promised—some kind of claw foot replica, but with modern jets. It looks like it would take a good half hour to fill the thing.

So far, the room is exactly what he expected. Not a hint of anything weird. No creepy feelings, or cold spots, and no repeat of the voices from before. It's all pretty frustrating, really. Stephen heads back to the bedroom.

But something catches his eye.

He stops to stare into the large, ornate mirror hanging over the dresser. _Had he seen something moving in there?_ He scowls at it, and then realizes he's scowling at himself. He turns away from his reflection. "Did you notice the weird energy here when we came in?"

"I did. I don't think I've felt anything like it before. Do you think it's the ghost?" At-ye climbs up onto the bed, ejecting pillows over the sides, and begins smoothing zir fur down where it had gotten mussed. 

"Maybe..." Stephen's never felt anything quite like it, either—almost like the echoes of a multitude of people all superimposed over each other, overlapping until they were indistinguishable. _Odd_. "It didn't feel like a ghost. At least, not like any of the others I've encountered."

At-ye purrs in agreement. "Such things are rare on my world, but they are always made of pure energy. They don't last long. And very few can talk. Only the most powerful magic users can leave behind ghosts like that." Ze stops grooming. "It would be very weird to find so many talking ghosts in one place."

"Yeah..." Stephen says, absently. That would be very weird, indeed. 

Stephen leans closer to the mirror again and pokes at the sutures over his eye. The wound looks good—healing fast. He might pull them out tomorrow. That black eye has matured nicely into a greenish, yellowish mess. He doesn't look too bad.

_Like someone who's been in a car crash..._

He shudders a little, remembering his accident. The sickening feeling of spinning out of control, waiting for the moment of impact. The relative silence in the aftermath, everything else drowned out by the ringing in his ears...

_The night he lost everything... The most important thing..._

He frowns to himself. That was a long time ago. Why is he thinking about it now?

Stephen realizes At-ye's been watching him intently, probably picking up some of those thoughts. He carefully reinforces his mental shields before turning around. 

At-ye's still staring at him, a look Stephen recognizes as 'concerned' on zir face.

"What?" he demands.

"You're tense."

"I'm fine."

At-ye's too smart to accept an obvious lie like that. "The people downstairs asked about beds and you got upset..." ze prompts. "You've been upset since then."

Stephen pushes a few pillows out of the way and sits on the bed. It's not really fair to lie to his friend. "They think we're lovers."

At-ye blinks large, orange eyes, looking confused. "We are lovers. I _do_ love you."

Stephen can't help smiling. In At-ye's culture, 'love' just referred to any strong bond between friends or family. No sex, so no concept of romantic love. It's hard to remember sometimes, how different they really are. "I mean, they think we're in a sexual relationship."

"I see." At-ye thinks about that for a while. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I can use a different shape if the one I'm using now is not right. Maybe a female form would be more appropriate. I know humans have a lot of weird customs about sex. I don't understand most of them..."

"No, you're fine. It's not a problem. I just... don't like misunderstandings." That's not everything, but he decides to keep it to himself. He doesn't want to admit that he's been feeling off since they stepped into the room. 

"We will be sharing a bed, so they weren't wrong," At-ye points out.

"Yeah..." He hadn't really felt like explaining everything to the Davidsons, anyway. Isn't sure where he'd even start... _No_ , they're not actually lovers. But one of them is a furry space alien who enjoys co-sleeping. Also, they share a soul-bond because they both participated in a ritual orgy to save a moon from destruction, and now they like being close to each other. So, the extra bed isn't needed, thanks...

Sometimes, it's just easier to let people make their assumptions.

 

***

 

The rain finally tapers off in the afternoon, leaving the forest smelling like rich dirt and wet leaves.

Stephen carefully climbs over a log that's fallen across the path, trying hard not to jostle his splinted arm. He'd really wanted to go for a run, but that's out of the question right now—even a sedate walk through the woods is enough to make his arm throb. 

He can hear branches swaying and then water rains down on his head. He brushes it off and scowls. "Hey, watch it."

"Sorry!" At-ye's clicking comes from somewhere directly above him. 

Stephen looks up. The little alien is draped over a cedar limb, teeth bared in a grin.

Or maybe it's a larch... Stephen had been bored enough while they were stuck inside to flip through all of the guide books in their room, even  _Trees of the Pacific Northwest_. He was pretty sure he'd be able to identify them after memorizing pages of exciting tree facts. But out here all the trees looked the same—tall and green. And wet.

They'd gone out exploring when the rain stopped. Into the national forest land that backed up to the edge of the property. At-ye had dropped the human disguise as soon as they'd lost sight of the house, and scampered up into the pines, following Stephen as he walked on the trail below.

Stephen had always pictured At-ye swinging through the trees like a monkey, using those ridiculously long arms. In reality, the alien climbs disturbingly like a spider, limbs moving carefully in a creepy crab-walk. 

"This is a wonderful place! Look at these trees..."

Stephen smiles at the pure joy in At-ye's voice. "Glad you like it." He's feeling better and better the farther they get from the Garden Inn.

The trail would be muddy, but the thick layers of pine needles and moss seem to soak up all of the water as soon as it hits the ground. Even though the rain has stopped, the trees are still dripping and the air is thick with mist. Stephen is fairly well soaked now, and At-ye looks a bit like a wet mop—fur dark and glistening—but they keep moving deeper and deeper into the forest.

Finally, they come to a place where the ground slopes away from the trail, down to a small crevasse. Water rushes white and green over smooth boulders at the bottom. Stephen leans out over the edge to get a better look, holding onto a trunk with his good hand, careful not to slip on pine needles. At-ye climbs down to stand beside him. They both stare down at the water for a while, enjoying the quiet.

"So... ghosts." Stephen decides to break the silence. He moves back from the edge to sit on a rock. Water seeps into his pants, but he doesn't mind. He just doesn't feel like going back to the room yet. "What do we know about them?"

At-ye hops up next to him. "Not much. There are several different things that my people call 'ghosts'. Some are the astral form of powerful magic users, left behind after the mortal body dies. Those are the ghosts you can talk to or interact with. Some are actually demons. Most ghosts are just energy disturbances caused by violent or sudden deaths. I've seen just a few of these. They can move things around a little or become visible, but they aren't sentient so you can't talk to them. They're just like words on a page. You can read them, but they always stay the same."

Stephen nods. That's pretty much his understanding, too. 

At-ye shrugs, a gesture ze picked up from Stephen. "As I said before, ghosts have never been an important part of my culture. We haven't practiced magic for long on my world, so there aren't a lot of dead magic users yet. And our society is peaceful and ordered. Murder is rare. Most of our violent deaths have happened off-world, during the wars..." Ze trails off, thoughtful. "I wish I could be more helpful, friend, but I don't have a lot of experience with ghosts."

"No, it's fine. You are helping. I don't know much about ghosts, either." _If this even is a ghost.._. He sighs and picks up a rock with his left hand, tosses it sloppily into the creek. 

Ghosts tended to show up when it's dark. _A cliche_ , Stephen thinks, but there's some truth to it.

They'll stay the night. Maybe something interesting will happen.

 

*** 

 

Just after midnight, Stephen wakes suddenly, startled out of a dreamless sleep.

The room is silent and dark. But he swears there had been _something_... Something in the room just seconds before. He's sure he'd heard whispering... Stephen is instantly alert, senses open. He reaches out into the darkness.

 _Nothing_.

Nothing supernatural, anyway. The ticking of the radiator. The wind in the trees outside, pushing against the glass and rattling the old casement windows. At-ye's familiar warmth beside him—they'd fallen asleep almost immediately after throwing all the pillows on the floor and climbing into bed, both still exhausted from their fight with the demon. He can hear the alien purring softly, deeply asleep. The other Sorcerer's thoughts are vague and slow, shifting randomly in dreams, so easy to access because of their bond.

Stephen's arm is throbbing. The pain must have woken him. He winces slightly and pulls it up onto his chest over his heart—he should really be keeping it elevated.

At-ye stirs restlessly beside him and makes a distressed whine, sensing Stephen's discomfort, most likely. He puts his shields back up before he accidentally wakes his friend.

He debates getting up and taking a pill—he's due for another, probably—but then At-ye snorts loudly and drapes a long arm over him, effectively trapping him in bed.

Stephen sighs and closes his eyes again. The pain's not so bad—he's used to it by now. He considers entering the Astral Dimension and keeping watch over the room, just in case something else happens. It would be a welcome break from the pain, as well, but he really needs to get some actual rest. He concentrates on his breathing and tries to ignore his arm, follows the soothing ebb and flow of At-ye's thoughts.

Eventually, he drifts back down into sleep.

 

***

 

When he wakes again, there is warmth on top of him, pressing him down. Another body, rocking against his own. He wraps his arms around the person above him, the splint making it awkward. Gentle fingers move up his neck and ruffle the hair on the sides of his head. Someone's mouth presses against his, hot breath tickling his face, making him shiver.

He groans and opens his mouth, deepening the kiss, before he's even aware that he's doing it. The feeling is bittersweet, sparking memories—

_—of the first time they'd come here. When they were both young and happy. So much in love. It didn't seem like that long ago, but so much has happened since then. A lifetime of happiness and grief. So much grief. Too much for one person to bear. This place brings back such happy memories. It's a good place to do what has to be done. To end the pain. He'll understand..._

_Understand why she has to do it—_

Stephen wakes with a start, heart beating too fast in his chest.

That's not right... He's never been here before. And he's never thought of himself as 'she'. The thoughts don't seem to be his own. 

He blinks away the tears that are suddenly in his eyes, trying to figure out where he is and what's happening. The room slowly comes into focus around him. Still dark out, moonlight streaming in through the windows, vague shapes of ugly roses on the walls.

 _Right_. Haunted hotel. And someone is lying on him, someone he was just... _Wait..._

"At-ye," he mumbles. "What are you doing?"

The body on top of him goes still. "I—I don't know..."

 _Huh_. Stephen moves his fingers down over silky fur, along At-ye's long arms. They're wrapped around him—all four of them. "Why are you on top of me?"

"I'm not sure. It must have happened when I was asleep." The alien sounds just as confused as he is. 

How had they ended up like this? Maybe they'd both been dreaming... With their mental shields down it was too easy to get caught up in each other's dreams.

There's a bizarre taste in his mouth, and maybe... _fur?_ "Were you... kissing me?"

"Is that what we were doing?" At-ye finally climbs off and lies down next to him. "That's weird."

 _An understatement_ , Stephen thinks. "Uh, yeah..." He's still disturbed by that dream, the way he'd felt... _wrong_. And, for just a moment, like he was someone else... 

"I tried using one of your computers yesterday to look up human sexual behavior, but that was very confusing. And disturbing. There was far too much information." At-ye shudders slightly next to him.

Stephen can't help chuckling. "Yeah. Never do that." He pauses. "Wait... why were you googling 'human sexual behavior'?"

"I apologize. I was going to ask you first... if we could try something. I didn't mean to surprise you. I'm not sure what happened to me tonight..."

 _That's odd_. "I didn't think you'd be interested in something like that. After, uh, everything we went through on Calexa."

"I didn't think I was either, but I changed my mind when we got here. I _am_ here to learn more about humans, so I should do things that humans do." At-ye pauses. "And I could feel a little of what you were feeling during the ritual on Calexa, and it felt very good. I mean," ze adds, "some of it looked horrible... And I never want to try whatever it was you did with that Angami. Remember that?"

Stephen winces. "Yeah. Let's not talk about it." That had not been one of the highlights of his sexual career.

"Touching mouths, though..." At-ye continues. Stephen realizes belatedly that there's no word for 'kissing' in their language. "I—I liked it." At-ye runs long fingers through Stephen's hair, smoothing it back down. "It felt good in the same way that grooming someone I love feels... I can understand why you like it."

 _Definitely odd_. 

At-ye tucks in against his side, soft and warm. "I'm going back to sleep now. Sorry I woke you with mouth-touching."

"No problem," Stephen mutters. He's exhausted, too, but he doubts he'll be able to sleep again. Not after that dream...

He ends up lying awake until dawn, listening to At-ye's soft purring, and waiting for something else to happen. But nothing does.

 

***

 

In the morning they head downstairs for breakfast. 

The old house is peaceful except for the constant tapping of rain against the windows, the sounds of the owners moving pots and pans around in the kitchen. It's the off-season—that interminable time between the end of the winter holidays and the start of spring—and mid-week, so they're the only guests right now. 

At-ye is happily shoveling a third helping of fruit salad into zir mouth. Stephen settled for eggs and toast. He feels vaguely guilty eating anything that used to be an animal in front of At-ye, knowing that consuming anything that might have once had a 'spirit' is a major taboo in the alien's culture.

Not that it stopped them from waging a war that lasted for centuries, Stephen thinks. He knows very little about the history of At-ye's people, only what At-ye's been willing to share with him, which isn't much. And judging by his friend's reluctance to talk about the past, it's a sore point. He's curious, of course, but he doesn't want to push.

Mrs. Davidson bustles in and out of the kitchen, bringing them food and coffee and, generally, hovering. She seems happy to have guests to take care of, and Stephen's not going to complain. Not when the coffee is this good.

 She comes by again to fill his mug with a dangerous fourth cup of coffee. It's as good a time as any to interrogate her.

"So... Has anyone ever died in that room? That you know of?" Stephen asks. 

Mrs. Davidson sets the coffee pot on the table and sits. "Not since we've owned the place. Bought it back in the eighties, when you could get a deal in this area. But it's an old house... I'm sure someone's died in here over the years. People used to do that, you know... die at home. Now they drag you off to the hospital when it's your time, stick you full of needles and wires..."

Stephen doesn't really feel like getting into a debate about end-of-life care. He clears his throat before speaking again. "I forgot to ask you this yesterday, but..." He gives her a meaningful look. "Have _you_ ever seen anything or felt anything in there? Anything to make you think the room might be haunted? It's just... I got the impression you don't think there's a problem."

Mrs. Davidson looks around— _for her husband_ , Stephen thinks—then leans forward, like she's about to impart some great secret. "Well... I know it's important to take guest complaints seriously, and I try to, but... I've never had any so-called experiences in that room. I quite like it, actually. It's just so... cozy. I always feel happy when I'm working in there. Sometimes, when I'm feeling blue, I'll just go up there and sit for a while—when the room's empty, mind. Never fails to make me feel better. It's my favorite room in the house."

She must notice the look of confusion on Stephen's face, and she pats his hand.

"Oh, but I'm happy you boys are here! _Something_ must be bothering our guests. We've tried so many things. Even had an expert on fung shi, or whatever you call it, come out and rearrange the furniture. So if there's anything at all in that room, I trust you two to find it. And even if you find nothing, it'll still set my husband's mind at ease, knowing we tried. Peter was, well... You know he was a Sorcerer, but..." Her mouth tightens into a thin line. "He tried to be helpful, in his own way, but I could tell he had something else on his mind, the poor dear..." She shakes her head sadly, and Stephen thinks, _yeah, he definitely had something else on his mind..._

"Anyway, you have to take things like this serious these days, what with the internet and the Yelp and all. All these reviews are starting to cost us some business. People just want everything to be perfect on their honeymoon. They don't want excitement. They don't want to feel unsettled..."

 _Unsettled,_ Stephen thinks.That's exactly how he'd describe the way he felt yesterday. 

She stands and picks up Stephen's empty plate. "Well, now... can I get you some more coffee? And you, hon, can I get you another bowl of fruit?"

At-ye smiles widely at her, nods, and holds out the empty bowl.

"You sure I can't bring you some eggs or pancakes, hon? You're such a skinny thing..."

"He's vegan," Stephen explains. 

"Oh, we get lots of those here! I'll be right back with the fruit and the coffee." She stops to smile her grandmotherly smile at both of them, and Stephen's terrified for a moment that she'll reach out and pinch their cheeks. "You boys make such a cute couple."

"Uh, we're not, I mean, we—"

"You should try out that tub in your room, if you get a chance. It really is wonderful—has all these jets and bubbles. Heaven on Earth, if you ask me..." She actually winks at him. "I'll be right back with that food."

Stephen scowls at her back as she walks away, humming.

"We should do that," At-ye says when she's out of earshot.

"Do what?"

"Try the bath. It sounds nice."

Stephen groans and rolls his eyes. _Gods_ , he needs to get out of here... He checks his watch. "You can try the bath. I have an appointment at the hospital to get this fixed." He indicates his splinted arm. He's really not looking forward to going back, but he promised Christine he'd be there.

"I _will_ try the bath," At-ye says, pointedly. "And perhaps you should, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You need a rest, my friend. Isn't that why we're here?"

Stephen grunts. _Maybe_...

But he's pretty sure there's something interesting going on here, too.

 

 

***

 

Stephen had never really gotten along with Rich Kowalski, the few times over the years they'd interacted. But he'd gotten along with so few people during the time he was a doctor, that he'd forgotten the specifics of why he never liked the man.

Now, after being his patient for approximately fifteen minutes, it's all coming back to him… Kowalski is a complete idiot. 

Christine had threatened to drug him so he'd behave himself. Stephen thinks maybe she should have—it might have made the experience at least slightly more tolerable.

Kowalski is currently staring at the new x-rays Stephen had insisted weren't necessary. His arm is fine. _Will_ be fine, he amends. The fracture is clean, and nothing has changed since the last set was taken.

Kowalski makes a humming sound, like he might be thinking. Stephen finds that hard to believe.

It's strange being back here again, wandering through the halls. Nothing's really changed since he left. He'd stopped by the ER to say hello to Christine before wandering up to Orthopedics for his appointment and had gotten a few double-takes from nurses and doctors along the way. Luckily, he'd managed to avoid running into anyone who'd known him before.

Kowalski hums again. Stephen almost can't stand it anymore. He's ready to just go and get what he needs to put his own cast on.

Kowalski finally decides to speak. "You did some serious damage to your hands in that accident." He shakes his head, still staring at the scans. "I mean, I remember discussing your case during rounds, but... _jeez Louise!_ "

It's a struggle to remain silent. He imagines opening a portal to deep space and shoving Kowalski through it. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply, instead. _Calm_. 

Kowalski either hasn't noticed or doesn't care about his irritation. "How many surgeries have you had?" he asks casually.

"Seven. Do you think we could get this over with?" 

The other man finally manages to pull his eyes away from the x-rays, smiles genially. "Sure thing. Let me just take a look at that." He strolls over and picks up Stephen's wrist, fingers pressing a little too hard along his broken bone. Stephen tries not to glare at him.

"Swelling's gone down. Everything looks good. Don't need any reduction."

 _No shit_ , Stephen thinks. When Kowalski moves on to palpate the bones in his hand, he pulls his arm away.

Kowalski doesn't seem to take the hint. "I'll send my nurse in to get started on that cast. And I'm going to go round up my residents. I think they'd really get a kick out of seeing these." He gestures at Stephen's x-rays. "It's a great teaching case. Just sit tight and we'll get you all fixed up."

Stephen goes deadly still when Kowalski gives him a patronizing pat on the shoulder.

"Shouldn't be more than, oh... another hour or so."

_Gods, he hates being a patient._

 

***

 

He gets back to their room just past noon. It's still raining.

He steps out of the gateway, dismisses it, and then just stares at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. The black eye looks worse now—a blue and purple stain on his pale face. He raises his hand to poke at it, but now the cast is there, of course, getting in the way already.

Baby blue fiberglass. He glares at it. Christine had even drawn a heart on it before he'd managed to escape, just to add to his humiliation. He sighs and drops his hand back down. Six weeks until he's free. He probably won't be able to wear any of his robes, either, the sleeves are too tight, will have to shower with a bag on his arm. It's probably just his imagination, but the skin under the cast already feels itchy. 

He can hear At-ye splashing around in the bathroom, making a terrible warbling noise that he now recognizes as singing.

The sutures over his eye look ready to come out. Maybe he can get At-ye to do it—he's not sure he can manage it left-handed. He leans closer to the mirror to get a better look, when something in the reflection catches his eye. 

 _The wallpaper_... Ugly pink roses and vines, but he's absolutely sure there hadn't been birds there before. Now there are—white doves, swirling around the roses. And the roses, themselves, look just slightly different...

Stephen whirls around and scans the room. No birds, just ugly roses and vines.

He steps over to a wall and examines the wallpaper, raises a hand and runs his fingers along it. Just a wall with tacky wallpaper. Nothing more. This looks exactly like he remembered it. And he has a very good memory.

He glances around the rest of the room, just to make sure. Everything looks normal. _Is he going insane…?_

He steps back over to the mirror, frowns at it. His reflection frowns back. The wall behind him looks right—no birds.

" _What the fuck...?_ " he mutters.

"Stephen? Is that you?" At-ye must have heard him.

"Yeah, it's me." He keeps his eyes fixed on the reflection behind him, daring it to do something weird again.

More splashing. "Come talk to me. I'm bored."

Stephen smiles to himself. "I'll be right there..." He waits just a few more moments. Disappointingly, the room stays the same.

_The mirror... Could it be something more?_

Now that he's looking at it closely, this mirror doesn't really match the rest of the decor in here—the frame is really more Art Deco than the tacky Victorian look of the rest of the room. There are a few little details around the edges and at each corner that could be symbols, but they don't look like anything Stephen recognizes. 

He touches the frame, cautiously opens his mind.  _Nothing_. If this mirror is some kind of relic, he's not sensing it. 

He gives the mirror one more suspicious glare, just for good measure, then reluctantly turns away.

 

***

 

At-ye is spending a ridiculous amount of time in the bath, so Stephen sits on the closed toilet lid while they talk. He pages idly through the report Master Rendon had written for the Davidsons. Most of it is totally useless—the man doesn't strike him as someone who had a lot of brains, in a lot of ways—but there are hints of something interesting in the guest complaints compiled from Yelp.

Only a few of them reported seeing or hearing anything that could possibly be a ghost—voices, objects moving around, cold spots. Most just said they felt uneasy, or _off,_ without going into specifics.Stephen finds it bizarre that a person would take the time to leave a bad Yelp review without actually describing what they didn't like about the room. Maybe that's just it, though... Maybe they couldn't articulate what they felt...

"Last night..." he starts, tries to decide what he remembers. "Did you feel... different?"

"What do you mean?" At-ye slips around in the bath like seal, sloshing water over the sides, and pulls one long, lower arm up to scrub under it. The tub is indeed huge, enough to make it almost swimming pool-sized for At-ye. And, of course, the alien has filled it right up to the brim.

Stephen absent-mindedly pushes the towel on the floor around with his foot to soak up some of the water. 

How to explain it when he's not even sure what he was feeling? "Different. Like you weren't quite yourself."

At-ye purrs, thinking. "Possibly. It's hard for me to separate my feelings from yours when we're close. So... possibly."

Stephen tries to run his fingers along his beard, but the damn cast keeps getting in the way. He growls in frustration and drops his arm back down. It's just not the same using his left hand. Damn fracture is even interfering with his thinking now...

He remembers something from last night struck him as odd. "You said you didn't know what kissing was, right?"

"Touching mouths?" At-ye flips over in the water. 

"Yeah. Your people don't touch mouths to show affection, right?"

"No." Ze snorts like the very idea is ridiculous.

"So... how did you know what to do?"

"I... I don't know." At-ye scratches at zir head with a clawed finger. "I didn't really think about what I was doing last night. I just did what felt good. Maybe I was picking something up from you, subconsciously. You obviously like touching mouths..." Ze picks up the soap again and then stops. "There was one thing..."

"Yeah?" Stephen looks up, eyes sharp.

"I thought I felt something that wasn't appropriate. Very briefly, I was angry. And... and then sad. Very sad."

"Huh." He'd felt something similar—not the anger, but sadness. Overwhelming sadness that seemed to come from nowhere.

At-ye continues. "I thought it was coming from you. Because of the bond we still share..." The alien glances over at him, a question in zir eyes.

Stephen shakes his head slowly.

"Then it must have been a dream." At-ye goes back to scrubbing.

"Maybe..." To Stephen, last night hadn't felt like a dream.

It felt _real_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! 
> 
> Warnings: drug use, sex, suicidal thoughts

After an afternoon of wasted phone calls and emails, Stephen finally finds a former guest of the Garden Inn who wants to talk about her ghost experiences. Lee, a server at a vegan restaurant in Portland. The place has decent Yelp reviews. It's not really his thing, but At-ye will probably appreciate it.

Portland is Portland so they go out dressed in their Sorcerer's robes.

 _Well_... At-ye is wearing the illusion of robes. Stephen couldn't fit his cast through his sleeve, so he'd settled for wearing his outer robes over a loose-fitting blue tunic. It's close enough to what he usually wears.

They get a few odd looks, of course. But they also encounter a surprising number of people with a whiff of magic about them, who give them knowing nods as they pass by. Maybe more than in New York, Stephen guesses, which is surprising.

At-ye is entirely fixated on the buildings, the same way ze had been in New York. "This place has less metal in it than the other one, but still so much!"

It isn't that surprising. At-ye's world, which is actually a moon orbiting the remains of their original planet, has few resources. Ze had explained that most of their structures are built with a type of fast-growing fungus. Metal is a precious resource reserved for building ships. They've had to trade with other worlds for most of what they needed.

Stephen stops in front of a little store front under some apartments, checks his phone, then the sign hanging over the door: The Golden Leaf.

"This is the place."

At-ye looks at the sign suspiciously. "I've never heard of a golden leaf. It sounds poisonous. What kind of food do they serve here?"

"You'll like it. It's vegan—plants only."

At-ye's face brightens. "I like plants."

 

***

 

"This is nice." At-ye gestures around the restaurant with a fork.

Stephen makes a noncommittal grunt. The food isn't great—his quinoa tastes mostly of salt, like a lot of mediocre vegan food—and the fake-bohemian atmosphere isn't doing anything for him. The incense hanging in the air also makes it harder to taste the food. Maybe that's a good thing...

Someone must like it, though—the place is pretty packed for a Wednesday. And At-ye swears the vegan curry is the best thing ze's eaten since coming to Earth. The beer is good, at least. Stephen's already on his second IPA. He'd needed something to wash down the quinoa.

Lee had gotten them settled and served, and promised she was due for a break soon so they could talk. Lee, with her short hair dyed a shockingly neon green, thick plugs stretching her earlobes—which Stephen, as a doctor, can't approve of—and a vintage Pixies tee, which he does approve of. She's obviously been a server here for a while. Stephen watches as she moves with practiced ease through the narrow spaces between tables, ferrying plates and greeting regulars.

At-ye takes a huge bite and chews loudly. So far, Stephen hasn't managed to convince his friend to eat with zir mouth closed. Another cultural thing, he supposes. Fortunately, no one around them seems to mind.

The alien says, "I like your planet, your cities. I imagine they're what ours used to be like," around a mouthful of food.

Stephen shifts a little in his chair, picks up his glass. At-ye seems to want to talk, so he feels safe broaching the subject. "What happened to your world?"

At-ye takes another huge bite of curry, chews thoughtfully. "We wrecked it, friend.

It happened a long time ago. Many generations before my time. My species is... fruitful. We can reproduce faster than the food we grow, faster than we can build. My homeworld was once a beautiful place, full of forests that stretched as far as the horizon in every direction. A huge world—much bigger than your Terra. But it wasn't enough for us.

We covered the world with our cities, our people, until there wasn't enough left to support us. And still we reproduced. It didn't matter that our children were starving, that our clones were fighting for space—families of hundreds living in the same house.

But we were still proud. We were conquerors. So we took the moons, then the planets we could reach with sub-light speed travel that could support life. If they were already inhabited, it didn't matter... It didn't matter whether they were sentient or not. Or how many of our people died. We waged war on them. And we justified it by saying we were superior. We were better.

It was a shameful time."

"That sounds a lot like the history of my people," Stephen says.

At-ye nods sadly. "For many people, I'm sure."

"What happened finally?"

"We found a new planet. A small one—it hardly seemed worth conquering. The people that lived there... they didn't appear to have any technology, nothing like what we had. Nothing that could possibly pose a threat to us. But when we attacked, they fought back with a power we'd never seen before..."

Stephen thinks he knows how the rest of this story goes. "Magic, right?"

"Yes. Strong magic—a whole world of Sorcerers. We had no defenses against it. My people had never seen anything like it before. Still, our leaders thought it would be dishonorable to surrender, so we kept fighting. For years, we waged war on them. We even stole their magic, made it work for us. It wasn't enough, though... Our people were dying as fast as we could produce them, and we still wouldn't give up.

They defeated us, in the end, at great cost to both of our species. They took some of our worlds. And we were pushed back into our system. But they also taught my people to use magic. And that has benefited our society, I think.

We are better now, as a species. Now, we try to live within our means. We have new rules about reproduction. You can only have three offspring, total. Some resent the laws—they say it's only natural to have a clone every season—but that's more than enough for someone like me. After two clones, I stopped having children."

"How do you control something like that?" There's so much about At-ye's people—about At-ye—that he still doesn't know.

"There are medicines you can take that inhibit the process. Or you can use magic, like I do." At-ye chews loudly for a minute. "Sometimes, I think I'd like to have one more child. But then I remember how much trouble they are. At-an, my first clone, has three children, so I can always visit and enjoy playing with them for a while. Before I go back to my peaceful life."

Stephen smiles. "You're a grandparent." He can't quite picture At-ye with children.

"Great-grandparent," At-ye says proudly. "At-shu, At-an's oldest clone, just had zir first child." Ze stuffs another huge forkful of curry in zir mouth. "What about you? Do you still have no children? Have you reproduced sexually since the last time we were together?"

"No, I..." He snorts and shakes his head at At-ye's ideas about human reproduction. "No. That's just not going to happen for me, I think."

At-ye takes a sip of zir tea. "I wouldn't discount it, the Seers work in mysterious ways... Anyway, you can play with my grandchildren when you visit my world. They'd love you." 

Stephen can't quite imagine what it would be like to have smaller versions of At-ye crawling all over him. They sit and eat in a comfortable silence for a while.

"Hi, guys." Lee slides into the empty chair at their table, a huge mug of tea in her hands. "I'm on a break now, so we can talk." She waves at someone over Stephen's shoulder. "So... what is it that, like, you two do?"

Stephen glances over at At-ye, who nods. "Thanks for talking to us. We're, uh, paranormal investigators. We're looking into a possible haunting at the hotel." He supposes that's close enough to the truth. 

"Sweet! I've always been interested in that kind of stuff. I'm pretty psychic, actually... Got it from my Grandma. I'm not, like,  super powerful or anything, not like she was. I just get flashes of the future sometimes. And I can see ghosts." She nods seriously.

Stephen lifts an eyebrow, but suppresses the urge to say something snarky. His already low expectations of hearing anything useful tonight drop even lower. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot my manners... This is At-ye. He's from Nepal. He doesn't speak any English."

At-ye smiles and nods. They're getting pretty good at this undercover shit.

"Wow, Nepal! I've always wanted to go there. That's awesome."

"Yes, Nepal is awesome," Stephen agrees, impatient to get started. "So, the Garden Inn... Can you tell us what you experienced there? Anything weird?"

"We went there on vacation last year. My boyfriend—well, my ex-boyfriend—he picked the place. We had, kind of a fight about it at the time... I really wanted to stay somewhere near the ocean, but Derek was super into hiking, so we stayed at the Garden Inn."

"In the Rose Room," Stephen confirms.

She laughs. "Oh, yeah. How could I forget? _Holy shit, that wallpaper!_ The whole place was, like, so not my style, but the room was nice. And we were too busy to worry about the wallpaper, if you know what I mean..."

At-ye looks confused.

Stephen is pretty sure he knows what she means. "Something happened, though...? While you were staying there?"

"The first night was great. Best sex of my life! Both of us just couldn't get enough. Derek was never great in bed before, I mean, he was a total sweetheart, but I was his first girlfriend and he was a virgin when we met, so he just didn't know a lot, you know? But he was amazing that night! It was like he was an entirely different person."

 _That is interesting.._. Stephen's worried they're about to get a recap, when she suddenly sobers. "But the next morning, I felt weird. I knew something was wrong." Lee looks around the restaurant and then leans forward. "And at breakfast, I actually ate meat— _bacon!_ —for the first time in three years," she says in a horrified whisper. "I _hate_ meat, and I'm totally against animal cruelty, too, but it tasted amazing. It wasn't until we went out for a hike later that I realized how fucked up that was."

She sits back again. "I know it was the room. Don't ask me how... but it changed us. Derek didn't notice anything. He never did. I can't blame him—he's not as sensitive as me, you know, to energies?"

Stephen nods, though he's not really sure exactly what 'energies' she's referring to. "And that's it?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't see anything? Or hear anything? The room didn't change in any way?"

Lee is shaking her head. "No, sorry. I don't even think it's really haunted. I think it's, like, a demon or something. Not, like, a totally evil demon—the sex was good. But there should be a warning or something."

Stephen sits back in his chair, thinking. _Disappointing_... 

"I've gotta get back to work. It was so nice to meet both of you! I'll get you guys that check..." Lee jumps up and straightens her apron.

Stephen stands, too. "Thanks for your time."

Lee smiles. "No problem. You're the first person who's taken this shit seriously—even Derek thought I was nuts, so... Are you two staying there? In the Rose Room?"

"Yeah, we're checking it out."

"Right on! Be careful in there. Seriously. Oh! I almost forgot"—she fumbles around in the pocket of her apron for something—"here." Lee lunges forward and grabs Stephen's hand before he can react, pressing something small into it.

A joint, he realizes.

Her smile widens. "For later. I grow it myself. Oh! And you should try the bath—it's totally awesome, if you know what I mean." She winks at them.

 _Fuck_. "Uh, that's not... I mean, we're not, uh..." 

At-ye grins and gives her a thumbs-up.

 

***

 

Stephen can't say he's happy to see the Rose Room again...

He's been pacing around since they got back. "We don't have much." He stops and sighs in frustration. Starts to scrub his hands through his hair, but the fucking cast is in the way. "A vegan ate bacon and enjoyed it. Oh, and her shitty boyfriend did some research and finally learned how to get her off. That's about it."

"You're upset again." At-ye is watching him carefully. 

"I'm fine," he snaps. At-ye's concern is irritating, stifling. He whirls around and stalks away from his friend, wanting some space between them. He realizes abruptly that he's angry—really angry. For no fucking reason. Has been since they got back from Portland. 

Stephen forces himself to stop pacing, takes a few deep, calming breaths. The anger drains away just as suddenly as it appeared. _Odd_. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening to me..."

"It's okay." At-ye's voice is gentle, concerned. "Is it the room? The person we talked to said she felt different..."

"Maybe..." If it is, then this is the only clue they have—the way he feels. Nothing else has happened except those voices yesterday, that bizarre dream he'd had. Possibly the wallpaper changing, though that might also be just in his head.

They have nothing else to go on.

He stops in front of the mirror again, compulsively looks into the glass, past his reflection. Something about it keeps drawing his attention back. Stephen wonders if there's a reason for that or if he's just losing it.

He's willing to entertain any potential lead at this point. 

He lets his eyes lose focus, opens his mind just a little. The room behind him blurs. He just stands there, waiting. At first, nothing happens. But then— _the wallpaper_. He thinks maybe the flowers are different. They're not roses now, but—he squints harder— _sunflowers?_  

He whirls around to try to catch the room in the act of changing. But it's the same familiar Rose Room—four-poster bed with too many pillows, At-ye in the middle of it, poking at his iPad, shitty rose and vine wallpaper, ugly hooked rugs.

He turns back at the mirror. Nothing—the reflection is the same as the room behind him. Stephen shakes his head. He _has_ to be imagining this, right? 

"What do you think about this mirror?"

At-ye glances up at him, then back down at the iPad in zir hands. "It's ugly. You should stop staring at it."

Stephen snorts in acknowledgment—the mirror is pretty fucking ugly. He looks over, wonders what At-ye could possibly be doing with his iPad. "I hope you're not searching for porn again," he mutters.

"Searching for what...?"

"Never mind." He pulls himself away from the mirror and drops into the armchair by the window, stares absently outside. It's raining again, and he can hear the low sound of thunder somewhere off in the distance. He wonders if the storm is getting closer or moving away.

He's suddenly, inexplicably restless. A bizarre feeling rising in him like he's supposed to be doing something right now. _Something_... that he can't quite remember. But it's not this. He's here for a reason...

"I'm researching," At-ye says after a few minutes of silence.

Stephen jumps a little at the sound of At-ye's voice. Ze is now typing something, using a pretty efficient hunt-and-peck technique with four hands.

Stephen clears his throat before asking, "Anything interesting?" He realizes he's started tapping his foot, forces himself to stop.

"Lots of very interesting things, but nothing that seems relevant to this situation. Are we still thinking this might be a ghost? The stories don't sound like a ghost problem. I was taught that only demons can possess people. But I think I'd be able to feel a demon's presence. Also, this doesn't appear to be a case of possession. It's too subtle. Can ghosts influence other people's behavior like this?"

Stephen sighs. "No. I honestly have no idea what's going on." So far, this little adventure has been mostly boring and frustrating—just weird feelings and possible shape shifting wallpaper.  

A flicker of lightning in the distance draws his attention back to the window. He taps his cast lightly on the arm of the chair, counting seconds. Fifteen taps later, there's a rumble of thunder from somewhere. Felt, but barely heard—the sound vibrates through his chest, making his nerves jump.

"We have no leads. Nothing," he says slowly. And, yet, he needs to do something... He's just not sure what. He shifts uncomfortably in the chair, the restless feeling crawling over his muscles. He's suddenly inexplicably aroused. He glances over at his friend, takes a second to make sure his mental shields are in place. Fortunately, At-ye hasn't noticed anything.

At-ye closes the cover on the iPad and sits up, apparently done with whatever research ze was doing. "I haven't sensed anything that might be a ghost since we got here. No demons, either. Just that weird feeling when we first stepped into the room. It's not at all what I have felt before around ghosts. On my world..."

"Yeah..." Stephen starts tapping his foot again, just to drain off some of his nervousness, wills his inappropriate erection down. _Gods, that's embarrassing._ "It's not a ghost. I think we can safely can rule that out." Maybe he'd been a little unfair to the late Master Rendon—the mystery is actually proving harder to solve than he'd thought it would be.

He jumps up suddenly. "I'm going to take a bath."

  

***

 

Stephen sinks down into the water, keeping his broken arm over the edge so the damn cast doesn't get wet, and enjoying the warmth seeping into his muscles. He feels better almost immediately.

The bath _is_ pretty great. He doesn't bother with the jets or the bubbles—the only thing he really needs is hot water.

He's still hard from earlier which is odd—normally, he has more control over himself than this. He reaches under the water and strokes himself lazily, but it's just not the same with his left hand and he's too tired to put any effort into it. He gives up after a minute.

His eyes settle on the joint he'd taken out of his pocket and set down next to his wallet. He'd meant to throw it out, but now... Why not? 

He picks it up and lights it with a tiny wave of his finger. He could probably manage that spell with just a thought at this point. The first taste of smoke in his lungs brings back memories from his days as a resident. Back then, he'd been eager and scared—so fucking scared—constantly afraid he'd fuck up and ruin everything. But he'd excelled, instead, absorbing everything he could from his mentors. And then, surpassing them.

Lightning flashes, followed almost immediately by a startling crack of thunder, and the lights flicker ominously. _Storm must have gotten closer_ , Stephen thinks.

His head is spinning pleasantly already. He exhales, wheezing a little, and squints at the joint between his fingers. Good shit, apparently.

He lets his head fall back against the rim, thinking, smoking... 

There's a particularly strong gust of wind and the lights flicker again and then go out.

"Shit," Stephen mutters. At least the moon is bright enough that he can still see well. He gestures with his left hand—a little awkwardly—and lights a few of the candles that are scattered around on the vanity counter. He'd thought it was odd that the owners would leave out so many potential fire hazards for the sake of a romantic atmosphere, but maybe they just have a lot of power outages.

There's a soft knock at the main door. He can hear At-ye and Mrs. Davidson talking. Well... Mrs. Davidson talking. He wonders if she's noticed the smell of marijuana yet, or if she'd have any objections to him smoking in the room. It's legal here, after all. The door shuts again without incident. Apparently not...

After a few moments, the door to the bathroom creaks open, making the candles gutter. At-ye peeks in. "The electric power is out. The owner says it will take a few hours to make it work again." 

"Yeah, it's just the storm."

At-ye is still staring at him. "You're inhaling medicine."

"Yep." Stephen decides to inhale more of it. The smoke makes him cough—it's been a few years since he quit smoking and his lungs aren't used to it anymore. He's still not entirely sure why he didn't just throw the joint out as soon as he got back to their room like he was planning to. He's smoked pot only a few times through the years. The high never really appealed much—making himself deliberately slow and stupid—but tonight it just feels right.

"Can I get in the bath with you?"

Another reminder that his life is weird now. He snorts. "Sure, why not."

At-ye climbs in over his legs. The tub is big enough for two humans to share, so more than enough space for one tall human and a short alien. A little water sloshes over the sides as At-ye gets comfortable.

"Oh. That's nice." At-ye dips down below the surface and then splashes up, shaking water all over the bathroom.

Stephen chuckles a little at the sight. If it's weird that he's naked in a bath with an alien, he doesn't care.

"Your arm hurts. You should take your medicine."

Huh, he hadn't really noticed. His mental shields must be leaking again—it's harder to focus on them when he's high. "I'm fine." He reaches over and picks up the joint, takes another long drag, keeping the smoke in his lungs as long as he can stand it. He's feeling very pleasantly buzzed now. He shuts his eyes and leans his head back against the rim of the tub, relaxing.

At-ye sloshes forward in the bath until ze is practically lying on top of him. Long limbs twine around Stephen's body, embracing him. The alien's warm, wet fur is ridiculously soft against his skin. Nimble fingers sneak up into his hair and hot breath gusts across his face. A hint of curry there still. Stephen cracks his eyes open. At-ye is staring at him from just a few inches away, too close to see clearly, golden eyes shining in the candle light.

"Yes?"

"I want to try touching mouths again. While we're awake this time." At-ye says.

"Hmm..." Stephen tilts his head, considering. "Your teeth are too sharp."

The alien tugs fondly at his hair. "Asshole."

Stephen chuckles again. Everything is funny right now. He picks up the joint and inhales until it's burnt down to almost nothing. At-ye's so close he has to turn his head to the side to blow out the smoke. The alien's complicated bat-like nose twitches at the smell, but ze doesn't seem bothered by it.

Stephen considers for a moment. "Are you sure you want that? I mean... you're asexual. You don't even have any of the right parts"—he gestures down at their bodies—"I mean, you don't have reproductive organs. Isn't this sort of thing... weird to you?"

"Yes—a lot of this is very weird to me. But I came here to learn new things. And we do feel physical pleasure. I want to feel what you feel."

Stephen stubs out the remains of the joint in one of the candle holders. "Okay." They're really going to do this...

"Good." At-ye purrs in his ear, "Drop your shields. I want to feel everything this time."

_Curiouser and curiouser..._

Stephen pulls his head back a bit, so he can see At-ye's eyes. "Are you sure? My arm is already bothering you." 

The little alien grins at him, showing off sharp, white teeth. "I think I can handle it." This is really At-ye's specialty, after all—connecting mind to mind. Ze had been an alien psychiatrist before deciding to switch careers to pursue Sorcery. Now, ze helped heal minds with magic instead of medicine.

"All right. Just give me a second." Stephen closes his eyes and tips his head back, focuses on dismantling the protections around his thoughts. He's so used to having them up all the time now, that they've become like second nature, barely noticed. It's a little like relaxing a muscle that's always tensed. And it actually feels pretty good to let go.

The bizarre effect of their emotions bouncing back and forth between them—like staring down an endless hallway of mirrors—is disorienting at first. But the rush of At-ye's feelings into his head is like a soothing wave, calming him. The alien has obviously done this before. And it doesn't take Stephen long to get used to their new, stronger connection.

"That's better," At-ye murmurs, petting him fondly.

And he can suddenly see himself the way At-ye sees him:

_An alien. Too tall and skinny. His arms are too short. He would look more balanced with a tail. Not enough fur to groom properly, but with smooth, soft skin that's so warm—_

At-ye runs zir fingers down his back to emphasize the point. Stephen chuckles.

_Eyes the color of water, useless for seeing in the dark. Broken hands that he won't talk about. An eater of animals and plants. Smart, too smart for his own good. Strong in magic, maybe stronger than anyone else ze has met. Too strong. A good and loyal friend, willing to do anything for At-ye, sacrifice himself... Troubled. Reckless and impulsive. Exhausted and overworked. Insecure, but an expert at hiding it. Worried all the time. Hurting. In need of a good therapist..._

Stephen smiles ruefully. "Is that really how you see me?"

"Yes."

He wonders if At-ye can feel how much their friendship means to him...

"I can." At-ye's fingers creep back up to his face, cradle the back of his head. "No more thinking. Now I want to touch mouths with you."

Stephen snorts, but he lets At-ye tip his head back. "Okay." He closes his eyes. He can feel At-ye leaning in, feel zir apprehension as their faces get closer.

_Like this?_

The words echo in his head. Alien words—clicks and hisses—but understandable somehow. At the same moment, fur brushes his lips, tickling, then pressing more firmly. At-ye's exotic mouth against his.

 _Yes_ , he answers, forming the word carefully in his head.

As many times as he's fucked—or been fucked by—aliens, he's never really kissed one that wasn't humanoid before last night. And he was mostly asleep then. This is new to both of them.

At-ye presses harder, and then they're actually kissing. It's... awkward at first. Stephen opens his mouth just a bit and At-ye's long tongue slips in, exploring. Zir saliva has a slightly sweet, chemical taste—a little too strong to be pleasant, but not intolerable. The alien doesn't have lips like a human, and the short fur on zir face is soft and velvety. The whiskers are a little stiff and irritating, but probably no worse than his beard.

Stephen imagines this is what it would feel like to be kissed by an otter. He can feel At-ye's slightly offended amusement at the thought.

An otter with very sharp teeth... He flinches as one catches on his lip, drawing blood.

At-ye pulls away. "Sorry," ze hisses. At least the alien felt it, too.

"Why does a species that eats only fruit need fangs?"

"I told you—we are a warrior race," At-ye says and grins at him.

"Yeah, I can see that. Are you sure you—"

At-ye leans in again and covers his mouth with zirs, shutting him up. Stephen can feel determination first and foremost in the alien's thoughts. Apparently, they're really doing this...

Despite the awkward start, the kiss quickly becomes more heated. Stephen knows it must be coming from him, maybe magnified by their connection. It isn't that he's sexually attracted to his friend, or to furry, multi-armed aliens in general. But being touched affectionately by someone he likes... that _is_ a turn-on. At-ye presses harder against him, hands roaming up and down his back, breath fast in his mouth. 

Soon, they're both breathing hard, caught up in each other's emotions. At-ye moves down to his neck, mouthing and licking at his skin, careful not to use teeth. "This feels good, too," ze says between nips. "You like it."

Stephen moans. It's been a while since he's been with anyone… He's fully hard again, now. He shifts in the bath, trying not to bump At-ye with his erection. He knows his friend can feel what's happening to him.  _Sorry,_ he thinks.

He can sense At-ye's curiosity about the mechanics of his alien body. "I don't mind," At-ye says out loud, "I've seen it before." 

Still, it's embarrassing. He breathes deeply, trying to calm himself down. 

"Touch your reproductive organ," At-ye says. "I can feel that you want to."

Stephen groans. This is weird as hell, and he's high. And there's something else—he just doesn't feel right. They probably shouldn't be doing this at all. He's aware enough to realize that they're both acting out of character. But he wants to do it, for whatever reason. And he can feel that At-ye wants this, too. He slides a hand down his body—his uncoordinated left, again—and wraps it around his erection.

They both shiver when he tightens his grip. And At-ye hisses when the pain in his hand spikes.

"Sorry," Stephen mutters. He's so used to it now, that sometimes he forgets how much everything still hurts, all the time.

"It's okay. I said I wanted to feel everything. I meant it. Keep doing that."

He does what At-ye says, moving his hand slowly up and down. It's still awkward using his left, but now, with someone else's thoughts in his head, it feels different, like it's not entirely his own hand. Like someone else is in control... Sweet tension builds in his pelvis, and he moans softly.

"Stephen...?" He can feel At-ye's unease at the unfamiliar sensation. 

"I can stop..." he gasps.

"No. I want this." At-ye floods his mind with feelings: some fear, but also _happiness, nervousness, anticipation, pleasure, closeness, reassurance, comfort, trust._

He opens his mind up as much as he can, letting At-ye feel what he's doing, why he's doing it, how good it feels...

At-ye grabs onto him. "That's—that is..."

"Yeah." He doesn't even know what he's responding to—At-ye's thoughts are too scattered to make sense to him. He speeds up a bit, despite the pain in his fingers. _Gods_ , he's almost there... The build up feels so good. And then he's breathing out hard, past the point of no return—orgasm is inevitable now. Anticipation shivers through him—

At-ye suddenly bites him, right on his shoulder—hard enough to draw blood, he's sure—and holds on.

" _Fuck!_ " The shock of it pushes him right over the edge, and he's coming. A shockwave of energy rushes through the bathroom and blows out the candles, knocks a vase of fake roses onto the floor. Stephen flings his head back, whacking it painfully on the hard edge of the tub, pushes up into his hand. At-ye's surprise and zir own pleasure seem to double the sensations, sending everything rushing back through him again, stronger and sharper.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashes back and forth between them. " _Oh, shit_..." He shudders and wraps his arms around At-ye, burying his face in wet fur, waiting for it to end.

Stephen opens his eyes slowly. They've made a mess of the bathroom again. And his cast is a little wet. At-ye is still clinging to him tightly, teeth buried in his shoulder, heart beating as fast as a bird's. Stephen shifts them around until they're sitting up higher in the water. The power is still out, so he waves a shaking hand and lights the candles again.

He lays back, trying to catch his breath. That was... _intense_.

Stephen winces as At-ye finally pulls zir teeth out of his shoulder. "Sorry!" The alien's gentle fingers poke at the bleeding wound. " _Shit_. I don't know why I did that."

"I thought you were... a vegetarian..." Stephen pants. He really doesn't mind—he's still riding a pleasant wave of endorphins and nothing hurts right now.

"I _am_ a vegetarian. I've never bitten anyone before. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry I bit you. But, thank you for sharing that with me. It felt... It felt _good_."

"Yeah. Sex feels good." _Gods_ , he's tired now. And the water is starting to get cold. They should probably get out. "Don't worry about the bite. It's fine."

Weird sex is his new normal now, apparently.

 

***

 

They find a little first-aid kit under the vanity in the bathroom. Stephen sits patiently while At-ye first waves zir fingers over his shoulder, performing a spell to disinfect the wound—which turns out to be surprisingly painful—and then tapes some gauze  over it. Neither of them know a reliable healing spell—it's complicated and dangerous magic, and not really worth it for something that should heal fine on its own.

He taps two Tylenol out and swallows them, sets the bottle on the counter. More for his aching fingers than his arm.

It takes a while to blow-dry At-ye's fur, and then they curl up in bed, both taken by the same sweeping exhaustion, still connected. The last thing he feels are At-ye's nimble fingers in his hair, grooming them both to sleep.

 

***

 

Stephen opens his eyes in the middle of the night, suddenly wide awake.

He's just had that dream again, the one where he's someone else. A different person, in some other place. Someone who also had a terrible accident. Someone who is broken and hurting, just like he is. But it's not the same—somehow, he knows that other person is okay now. That other person didn't lose everything. 

_That person didn't lose her..._

Stephen chokes as grief punches the breath out of him. Familiar tears form in his eyes and he just lets them fall. He lies in the dark for a long time, staring up at the ceiling.

Eventually, he slips out of bed and pads toward the bathroom. The storm has finally moved on and the night sky is clear and bright through the windows. He can see stars rising over the dark tops of the pines. Little lights suspended in a sea of infinite black.

He stops in front of a framed painting of the Raven-God. It's a cheap reproduction of a famous work—you could find one just like it in almost any hotel room. Still, the sight of it makes him pause. 

"Kutcha, forgive me," he whispers. "Forgive me..."

He's not sure what's come over him—he hasn't believed since he was a child. But tonight, perhaps he needs all the help he can get.

He leaves the light off in the bathroom, preferring the comfort of the dark. The moon is bright enough to see by, anyway. He finds the bottle of pills where he's left it on the countertop. They rattle in his shaking hand when he picks it up.

How many to take? Best to do it right— _do one damn thing right_ —and take all of them. Leave no chance...

He sets the bottle down on the counter and tries to pry it open. He can't get a good grip on it because of the cast, just can't wrap his fingers around it, and the damn child-proof lid won't come off. His fingers are too weak to press down and twist it at the same time. Tears of frustration well up in his eyes, making it harder to see what he's doing. He slams the bottle back down on the counter.

_What the fuck is wrong with his hands tonight? Why are they hurting so much?_

He looks back up at the mirror, swipes angrily at the tears streaming down his cheeks. His reflection is distorted and unfamiliar, like he's staring into a stranger's face. 

 _Something's wrong..._ Now that it's come down to it, he doesn't think he can do this. He's too fucking scared, too much of a coward...

He staggers back against the bathroom wall, slides down slowly onto the cold floor, and buries his face in his hands. "I—I can't..." he sobs. "Amy... Amy, I'm sorry. _I'm so sorry..._ "


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: some discussion of suicide, heavy shit, still mostly fluffy, though

Stephen wakes up with someone's warm arms wrapped around him. Two pairs of arms, covered in thick brown fur. At-ye.

His ass is cold and numb. He looks around, realizes they're actually in the bathroom, sitting on the floor. It's still dark, but the first gray light of dawn is creeping in through the window over the tub.

" _What...?_ " he starts. Why are they in the bathroom? This doesn't make any sense...

"Can I have those?" At-ye's clicking is slow and soothing.

Stephen looks down at his left hand. He's surprised to see that his fingers are curled tightly, painfully, around a bottle of pills. At-ye's fingers rest over his. It takes some effort, but he loosens his grip.

Tylenol. Why does he have that?

At-ye takes the bottle from him gently and sets it somewhere off to the side. "When I came in here, you were thinking about harming yourself. Using that medicine."

That doesn't make any sense... "I wasn't going to... I wouldn't... I mean, I'm not suicidal."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." This still doesn't make sense... "It... it must have been a dream or something, I think. I'm not... I don't know what happened, but I'm fine now."

"Can I check?"

Stephen hesitates.

"Just drop your shields," At-ye urges.

It's a hard thing to do, even now. Even after everything they've already been through together. Even after what they'd done last night... But this is At-ye, and he trusts his friend completely.

Stephen closes his eyes, forces himself to relax and let At-ye in. The connection forms more easily this time. He can feel the alien sifting purposefully and carefully through his thoughts. Zir touch is clinical, gentle—not at all the same as the intimate connection they'd shared last night. And very thorough. Stephen shudders at the intrusion and tries hard not to push At-ye out.

Finally, he can feel At-ye slipping away. He puts his shields back up, knowing it doesn't matter anymore. Stephen's sure his friend has already seen everything.

"You're not suicidal," At-ye confirms. "Not now," ze adds quietly.

Stephen groans and thumps his head back against the wall. _Fuck._

"Have you thought about it before? Harming yourself?" At-ye's voice is the practiced nonchalance of a professional. Ze already knows the answer, of course.

Stephen can't help bristling against the question and everything it implies about him. He doesn't want to talk about this. But At-ye is a friend. Ze is just trying to help. "Yeah," he breathes.

"How would you do it, if you decided to...?"

He answers instantly, before he can think better of it. "Drugs."

At-ye stiffens just slightly behind him, probably disturbed at how quickly the thought comes into Stephen's mind. As a doctor, he's aware of the implications of what he's just said—admitting to having a plan would probably be enough for a psychiatric hold.

"Not these drugs," Stephen adds. He's not an idiot, and a slow, agonizing death from liver failure would be a bad way to go. Anyway, there aren't enough pills left in the bottle to actually do the job, based on his quick calculations.

Stephen's not sure how much more he should say. He decides to be honest. "When I thought about it... Back then... I decided the best way to do it would be a fatal dose of morphine. And if I couldn't get that, I knew I could always buy enough heroin to overdose... I just... I needed to have a way out. In case things got too bad." He feels oddly guilty admitting it—that he'd been low enough to come up with a plan like that.

"But you don't feel that way now?"

"No," he says. "I haven't felt that way for a long time—not since the time right after the accident, when the pain was the worst, and then... when it was obvious I wasn't getting better. I'm not the same person I was back then. It's even hard to remember sometimes... how desperate I was. Almost like it was someone else who felt those things..."

At-ye is motionless behind him, just listening.

"I don't feel that way anymore. I wouldn't do that. Not now. This is not..." Stephen gestures around at the bathroom. "Whatever happened tonight, it's not me."

At-ye makes zir thinking sound—a soft purr. "I talked to your friend, the female doctor. We sent some messages back and forth."

Stephen twists around to look at At-ye. "Christine?" That must have been what the 'research' was yesterday.

"Yes. I'm worried about you, my friend," At-ye adds in response to Stephen's accusing glare. "She's worried about you, too. She said that you're prone to obsessive behavior and that you've had episodes of mania and depression in the past. But those lasted for weeks at a time." At-ye pauses, considering. "I don't think that's the problem now."

"I believe that whatever is happening here is influencing your thoughts. And mine, too," ze admits after another silence. "I think we've been careless with our psychic shielding, and that whatever is in this room is more dangerous to us because we are Sorcerers. The woman we met at the restaurant yesterday... She has some ability to connect with other minds. Not much, but she's stronger than any other human I've met here. Not as strong as you are, though. Or I am. I fear that opening our minds to each other and to try to sense the ghost has let something in."

Stephen's beginning to suspect his friend is more devious than he thought. "Earlier, in the bath... that was you checking up on me, wasn't it?"

"Yes, that was part of it." At-ye shrugs. "I also just wanted to take a bath with you."

Despite everything, Stephen chuckles. "Did you find anything? While you were in my head? Uh, besides the obvious..."

"No. You felt happy and relaxed. Maybe a little confused and uncertain, but I thought that was because I wanted to experience sex with you. And you were concerned for me."

That seems about right.

"I didn't feel anything else," At-ye continues. "Nothing controlling you—that I could sense. But... your mind felt different to me than it normally does. Different than it does right now."

"Hey, I can be happy sometimes," Stephen protests.

At-ye snorts. "You know what I mean. Your emotions were changing too fast, from angry to sad to... thinking about sex. You were not acting like yourself last night. And neither was I." At-ye's hands wander up to Stephen's hair, pulling and grooming. Stephen knows it's a nervous habit—something his friend does for comfort when ze is feeling anxious. He doesn't mind. It feels good, actually.

At-ye squeezes him tightly with zir other pair of arms. "When I came in here, I felt such deep despair coming from you. I was very afraid that you had already done something... _terrible_."

"Not my despair," Stephen says slowly. He remembers a picture on the wall. A crow or a raven. _A god_. In the dream, he knew its name. He'd been in an accident. But he hadn't lost his hands. He'd lost someone. Someone he loved.

The beginning of an idea is starting to take shape, but he's too tired right now to articulate it. At-ye's grooming is making him sleepy, despite everything.

"We should go back to bed. And you should sleep. I can feel how exhausted you are. I'll watch to make sure you don't do anything dangerous."

"I won't. I promise I'm not—"

"I believe you, friend. You are yourself right now, I can tell. But something was controlling you while you were asleep. So I would feel better if you let me stay awake."

Stephen can't really argue with that. He lets At-ye pull him back to bed and curl up against him.

He's asleep almost instantly.

 

***

 

At breakfast the next morning, they're both slumped in their chairs at the table, exhausted.

Mrs. Davidson fusses over them. "You boys doin' alright this morning? Heard you two thumping around up there late last night."

At-ye yawns and shoves another piece of cantaloupe in zir mouth. Stephen rubs at his eyes, still trying to wake up completely. "We're fine. We just... didn't get a lot of sleep." As soon as the words leave his mouth, Stephen knows it was the absolute worst thing to say. "What I mean is, uh—"

"Oh, you don't have to explain it to me..." Mrs. Davidson grins and winks. "I was young once, too. Why... me and Bill used to—"

Stephen really doesn't want to hear the rest of that sentence. "Could I trouble you for some more coffee?"

She pats his shoulder. "Of course, dear. Be right back." She bustles off to the kitchen.

"What's the plan?" At-ye asks when she's out of earshot.

The plan is to drink at least four cups of coffee... Stephen scrubs a hand over his beard. "I think we should try to provoke this thing."

"Provoke it?"

"Yeah. You said last night that opening our minds up was inviting something in. I think you're right. So, if we want to figure out what's happening here, I think we should keep doing that."

At-ye grins and points a fork at him. "You've figured out what's happening. I can tell."

Stephen shrugs. "Maybe. Just a hunch."

Mrs. Davidson returns with a fresh pot of coffee. "There you go, dear." Stephen practically groans with lust when she fills his cup. Mrs. Davidson chuckles. "And you, hon? Can I get you more fruit?"

At-ye nods enthusiastically.

Stephen takes a sip and sighs. _That's the stuff_... The day is already getting better.

And now they have a plan.

 

***

 

Back in the Rose Room, Stephen sits in the chair by the window and tries to read. It's surprisingly difficult with his mind wide open.

At-ye is on the bed, using the iPad again. The alien's thoughts are loud, filling Stephen's head, making it impossible to focus on his book...

 _Concern, worry, pain, he might hurt himself, he wanted to hurt himself with drugs, sadness, ze should hide the drugs... just in case, should tell the doctor friend about what_ —

Stephen jerks upright. "Uh... don't do that."

"What?" At-ye looks around blinking, confused.

"Don't tell Christine. About what happened last night. Please. She just... won't understand." He trusts Christine completely, but he wouldn't put it past her to try to help him in some way. Probably by trying to force him into treatment.

"Oh. I won't. I was only thinking." At-ye scratches at zir head. "I'm distracting you."

Stephen shifts in the chair, sets aside _A History of the Columbia River Gorge_. It was boring as hell, anyway. "Not really." _Maybe_... He's actually having a lot of trouble concentrating. He can't really feel anything except what At-ye is feeling right now. And At-ye's feelings are all about him.

"I can tell. My thoughts are interfering with yours. I'm not helping. But I have a solution."

"What's that?"

"You keep your shields down and I'll put mine up. Whatever this thing is, it has a much stronger connection to you. I think this plan will work when I'm not in the way."

Stephen tilts his head, considering. "That's... Yeah. Good idea." 

"I will still be able to tell if you're in danger. But... I trust you. I know you wouldn't hurt yourself on purpose. I promise I won't tell your doctor friend." At-ye stretches and slides off the bed. "Also... I want to take a bath. I'm bored. And I hate waiting."

Stephen chuckles. "Try not to get water all over the floor again. You don't have to fill the tub all the way to the top."

"But I do," At-ye says seriously.

Ze retreats to bathroom, leaving the door cracked. Stephen can hear water splashing—not too much, he hopes—and the weird sound of zir singing. The little alien's thoughts are quiet now—just the steady, low hum Stephen's become used to when they're both shielding.

He picks the book back up, tries to focus on the words. He can feel the Davidsons somewhere out in the house, too far away to really make an impression. The happy thoughts of a couple who checked in last night. They're in bed and, uh... _oh_. He probably shouldn't eavesdrop on that. Nothing odd, yet. He gives up on the book and stares out the window instead, just drifting, watching the dark trees swaying in the wind...

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A jolt of electricity thrums through him.

_Something's happening._

Stephen gets up slowly, sets the book down. _The mirror._ He can already see that the reflection in it is wrong. The wallpaper is different again. He gets closer, heart beating fast. He thinks about calling At-ye—his friend's mind is just an empty space, shields still up—but he doesn't want to risk scaring whatever is happening away again.

He walks closer to the mirror, keeping his eyes fixed on the reflection behind him.

The room is different again.

The bed is no longer just a four-poster. It has a fancy canopy now, with curtains—dusty pink, some heavy fabric like velvet. The wallpaper is still vines and ugly roses, but there are birds again. Not white doves this time—these are black. Maybe... crows?

Stephen frowns. _That's bizarre._

The more he stares, the more differences he notices. The radiators are completely gone. There's a big round pot—made of brass possibly, with unreadable symbols along the side—on the table by the bed. Some kind of strange light emanating from the inside. He doesn't think it's fire—this is greenish and not flickering. On the wall across from the mirror there's a portrait of a huge, black bird standing on golden perch, in an elaborate gold frame. Another crow?

He jumps back instinctively when a woman suddenly appears from the side and stops in front of the mirror. She freezes and her eyes go wide.

She's seeing him, Stephen realizes, and not her reflection.

The woman raises her hand cautiously and touches the glass—he can actually see her fingertips flattening against it as she moves her hand down, like she's touching a window—and her brow furrows. She doesn't seem all that terrified that a strange man has suddenly appeared in the mirror in her hotel room, she mostly just looks curious.

The woman in the mirror is black. Her short, curly hair floats like a dark halo around her face. He can clearly see a bruise, extending from her jaw to her temple, just starting to turn purple—must be fresh, he thinks... She looks like she might be in her mid-thirties. Her clothes are just slightly off, but he can't figure out what's odd about them. She doesn't look at all like a ghost. Just the fact that he's seeing her at all makes that unlikely.

He raises his arm slowly and the woman in the mirror does the same. There's a white cast on her right wrist. He looks back and forth between his own arm and the woman's. The same injury, he'd bet—a distal fracture of the radius—on the same arm.

Stephen smiles to himself. _What are the odds?_

He's pretty sure he knows what's happening now. "You're not a ghost," he says quietly. "Not yet..."

The woman in the mirror frowns at him. She doesn't look shocked anymore, just confused. Her mouth moves like she's talking, but no sound comes out.

Stephen realizes she can't hear him either. He holds up a hand and says, "Wait."

The woman's brow furrows again, but she nods.

Stephen nods back at her before turning around to search through their things on the bed. _Where had At-ye put it...?_

 _There_ —over on the night stand. He flicks his good wrist and the tablet flies into his hands. He opens the e-mail app and slowly pecks out a message with his right index finger, then increases the font size.

He turns the tablet around and holds it up to the mirror.

**dont kill yourself**

The woman squints at the words—and Stephen has a moment of doubt when he wonders if the words are backwards for her or if they even speak English where she's from—then her eyes widen in shock before shifting away.

"Hey!" He waves his arms in front of the mirror to get her attention back.

When she looks back up her eyes are red and wet.

He holds his hand up again to ask her to wait, and types another message as quickly as he can, cursing when the auto-correct fucks it up. Finally, he turns it around.

**please let me help you**

The woman in the mirror just stares at the tablet, clearly thinking. She bites at her lower lip.

"Come on," Stephen mutters. _Don't do this_ , he wants to say.

She suddenly turns away from the mirror, and Stephen panics. " _No!_ Wait..."

But a moment later, she's back, holding something in her hands that he doesn't recognize. It's shaped a little like a tablet, but looks like it's made of polished, dark wood. The woman draws a symbol on the front with her index finger and the wood begins to glow, light shining onto her face.

Stephen stares at it in confusion. Magic?

He watches, fascinated, as she draws on the surface quickly with her finger. She holds it up, so he can see what she's written. The words are orange, glowing against the background, but they're not handwritten—they're in typeface. Either magic or some kind of tech he's never seen before.

**Are you a Sorcerer?**

Stephen nods slowly. "How did you...? Oh, right, because I—" he gestures at the iPad. "Got it."

Magic must be a part of everyday life where she's from. It's not really that surprising—it is useful. She's already busy writing another message. When she's done, she holds up her weird tablet.

**What's happening?**

A good question... "I think I know. Hold on..." He types another painfully slow message on the iPad.

**parallel universes getting mixed up. Dont know why yet. Hold on**

She looks surprised. Stephen shrugs. He has a pretty good hunch about why this might be happening. But, right now, he's more concerned about this woman and what she's planning to do. He really needs to talk to At-ye, figure this out—ze knows a lot more about psychology than he does—but he doesn't want to just leave her like this.

First, he should see if he can get to wherever she is. He takes his sling ring out of his pocket and holds it up so the woman can see it. She nods, obviously understanding what he's trying to do. Stephen slips it onto the fingers of his left hand, tries to conjure a gateway with his right. But the magic just sparks and fizzles out. The damn cast is still in the way, but he's pretty sure that's not the problem. This should be easy—he can clearly picture the room as it appears in her universe.

At-ye must be done with the bath. "Stephen? Are you going somewhere? I thought I felt something—" The little alien walks over and then goes rigid next to him, fur bristling. "Who is that?"

"Uh..." Stephen starts. _Oh, shit!_ He'd forgotten about the illusion—At-ye's not wearing it right now.

But the woman in the mirror isn't freaking out at the sight of a furry, slightly damp alien. She smiles, instead. Stephen can see her mouth moving as she says something.

"What?"

She shakes her head at herself and writes something on her tablet, turns it around.

**Our Sorcerer Supreme is a Tiktalin**

_Interesting_... He turns to At-ye. "Does that word mean anything to you?" He really has no idea what to call At-ye's people. It's another one of those untranslatable proper nouns.

"Possibly... it sounds almost like one of our words." At-ye gets closer to the mirror, peers up into it. "Who is this human? She's not a ghost."

Stephen realizes the woman is probably waiting for them to say something. He turns back to her, mouths, "Hold on."

She nods, looking a little confused, but patient.

He's not as worried now that the connection will fade. Now that they're both aware of each other's existence, it seems much more solid.

He turns back to At-ye. "You're right—she's not a ghost. She's just a person, living in a parallel universe. The haunted room, the ghosts, everything we've been experiencing—they're parallel universes. Intruding on this one somehow. Or, this universe is intruding on them. Every guest that had a bad experience or thought they were being watched or—or ate bacon when they hate meat.... They were just sensing those other worlds, sometimes feeling what the people in those other places were feeling. The server's boyfriend—the one who was bad at sex—he was good at it here because he was using someone else's experiences, someone else's knowledge. Whoever was staying in this room, at the same time, in some other universe."

He glances at the woman. Still there.

"She and I are getting caught up in this because we share some of the same experiences. A bad car accident. This damn broken arm." He holds up the arm in the cast and waves it. "Only... She lost someone. She was driving and she—she..." He can feel it now—stronger and clearer than before. She lost so much more than he ever did. "There was an accident. And her child was killed. And she—she lost everything. And now she..." He trails off, swallows hard. It's almost too much to think about, too raw and painful. A deep, dark hole in his life where his little girl used to be. Nothing matters anymore, now that she's gone...

Stephen looks back up at the woman. She's watching him. Tears swell in her eyes. She closes her eyes and nods slowly, letting the tears run down her cheeks. She can feel what he's feeling, he realizes.

At-ye can feel it, too. " _Stephen?_ "

"I'm okay. Sorry. It's, uh... her emotions are strong." He scrubs his good arm over his face. "It's just a coincidence. We just happen to be staying in the same room, at the same time. Our lives have some parallels."

_How the fuck are they going to fix this?_

At-ye wrings zir hands. "She is the one I felt in your mind last night. I'm worried about her. We should not let her hurt herself."

Stephen nods. "I agree."

At-ye gestures to the iPad. "It's hard to communicate like this. Can we open a portal to her world?"

"I tried already, but I don't think we can. I think her reality might be too close to ours."

At-ye makes a little purring sound. "We should be able to reach other dimensions..."

"But we know that some dimensions are harder to reach than others. Think of the multiverse like a..." He suddenly can't think of an example At-ye would understand. "Like a cake." Oh, wait.. " _No_. A pastry with a lot of layers stacked together, like the one you tried in New York."

"That was good."

"Yeah. Think of it like that. It's easy to reach layers that are far from where you are—you just pull off a big chunk of the pastry. But it's much more difficult to reach the layers right next to the one where you are. The individual layers are harder to separate out. You'll end up with a pile of crumbs."

At-ye nods, but doesn't say anything, so Stephen continues. "Think about it... There must be an infinite number of parallel universes out there—each one just a little bit different than the one next to it. Her universe must be one of the closer ones."

"So we can't go there... What should we do?"

A good question—he really has no idea. They stand there for a few moments, staring at the mirror, and the woman in the mirror stares back.

At-ye suddenly claps zir hands together, startling him. "I have thought of a plan! You and this person have a connection, right?"

"It appears so..."

"I think I can establish a link between her mind and yours, so I can speak to her directly. Even across dimensions it should work."

"You want to talk to her?"

"I am a doctor, too. And I have more expertise with helping people. You know how to fix brains, but I know how to fix minds."

"That's..." Stephen runs his left hand along his beard, thinking. Actually, that's not a bad plan. He's not really good with people, wouldn't know the first thing to say to keep someone from hurting themselves. And, all things considered, he's probably not the most stable person right now. "Right. How do we do this?"

"I believe I can use the connection between the two of you to establish a link with her. To do that I... I will need to borrow your body for a while."

"Borrow it?"

"Yes. It's simple. I've done it before." At-ye pauses. "Never with a human body. Not yet. However, I think it will be easy, since we have a strong connection already." Stephen must still look doubtful, because ze adds, "Trust me. You are better at fighting demons, but I am better at this. I know what I'm doing."

The woman has been waiting patiently while they debated, just looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Okay." Stephen picks up the iPad again.

At-ye stands as tall as ze can, reading as Stephen types slowly with one finger. "You should let me write," ze says. "I'm much better at that, too."

"You're also a smart ass," Stephen mutters. He turns the tablet around so the woman can read it.

**we have a plan so we can talk to you. Might take a few minutes to set up**

She nods, looking resigned.

"Okay." Stephen tosses the iPad down on the bed. "What do I need to do?"

"Just leave your body. I don't think I will have a problem getting in once you're not inside it."

"Right..." Stephen glances around, decides he should probably be on the bed. He slides up and lays back against the pillows. It takes only a thought to leave his body. He floats up, watches as At-ye settles zirself next to his body in a kind of quasi lotus position—arms folded and hands pressed together—and closes zir eyes.

Nothing happens for a few seconds. At-ye's body goes still. And then his body abruptly sits up. It's so bizarre watching himself, knowing there's someone else inside, moving his body around. At-ye lifts one of his hands and flexes the fingers in front of his face. Stephen sees a grimace pass over his features. He knows that must be painful...

At-ye finally meets his eyes, makes an awkward thumbs-up with his hand, and grins at him. Stephen hopes that's not what his face looks like normally.

At-ye scoots carefully to the edge of the bed and slides down onto his feet. Stephen's body stumbles forward on the first step—Stephen reaches out instinctively to try to catch himself, which is stupid because his arm goes right through—but At-ye recovers quickly and walks over to the mirror with halting steps.

Stephen realizes he can't see the woman in the mirror anymore. Maybe that's not possible in the astral dimension. She must still be there, though, because his body goes still, staring into the mirror. At-ye must have made a connection.

And, now, he just needs to be patient.

 

***

 

The mirror looks weird from the astral dimension.

Actually, he thinks, it... _doesn't_ look weird. That's the problem. Everything else has a very distinctive, slightly blurred glowing edge. The mirror doesn't. The damn thing looks exactly like it did in the real world—ugly, same meaningless symbols around the edges, totally mundane. Stephen floats closer, careful not to brush up against his body, and reaches out, expecting his hand to sink through slowly like it does when he interacts with all matter here. Instead, the surface is solid. He can't really feel it when he touches the glass—everything is numb in the astral dimension—but he can't push his fingers past.

Stephen's absolutely sure that this mirror is the problem, the source of the anomaly. The crossover between the universes. "What are you?" he murmurs.

He glances at his face—At-ye's face, now. He looks tense, eyes sharp. Whatever they're discussing, it must be serious. He hopes At-ye can help her.

After ten or so minutes, staring at his motionless body is boring. The mirror is also just hanging on the wall, pretending to be an ordinary decoration. Stephen decides to go exploring. At-ye will let him know when they're done.

He avoids the other guest rooms. He knows some people checked in last night, and he doesn't feel right spying on them. Especially, considering what they might be up to. So he floats down the grand staircase and out to the front of the house.

The last of the storm has blown away, and the day is windy and bright. Even brighter in the astral dimension. Everything is wet and glistening after the rain.

He watches from the front porch as Mr. Davidson saws through a huge branch that must have fallen last night, carefully cutting the smaller limbs off and piling them up. After a while, Mrs. Davidson comes out carrying a cup of coffee. Mr. Davidson sets down his saw, pulls his gloves off, and starts moving his fingers in a series of quick gestures.

 _Signing_ , Stephen realizes after a moment. There's one mystery solved, he thinks. 

Mrs. Davidson laughs at whatever her husband said and hands him the cup. He puts his arm around her and she rests her head against him. It's a private moment and Stephen feels almost guilty watching.

The two of them stay like that for a while, just staring out into the forest.

 

***

 

Eventually, Stephen can feel At-ye pulling him back.

An hour has passed, he thinks. Maybe two. Time is more fluid here in the astral dimension. He floats back into the room to find his body propped up against some pillows on the bed, At-ye sitting next to it, grooming zir tail.

Ze looks up. "Hello."

He settles back into his body, flexes his fingers carefully. The familiar pain seeps back in, air on his skin, clothes brushing against him—the weight of reality. He sits up.

At-ye is watching him.

Stephen tries to scratch under the cast. He'd forgotten how itchy it was for a few minutes. "How did it go," he asks. 

"I think it went well, my friend. I was able to speak to her. We talked for a long time. You were right. She had an accident driving in her vehicle. Her child was with her. She was injured and her child died. She blames herself. She has thought about taking her own life for a while. Last night, she tried to do it. But something stopped her."

"Why here? Why this room?"

"She and the other human she has chosen to reproduce with—"

"Her husband?"

"Yes. That was the word. They came here for a sweet moon." At-ye's fur bristles when Stephen chuckles. "She asked if we were here for one. _What's funny?_ "

"Honeymoon," Stephen corrects, grinning. At-ye just stares blankly, so he goes on. "It's, uh, a trip you take together after you form a partnership with another human. Sort of a celebration."

"Oh. That makes more sense than what I thought it was. I thought it was a type of dessert. Anyway, this place has happy memories for her. So she decided to come here to end her life."

Stephen nods. He can understand that, too.

"But now, I think she will be okay."

"How do you know? I mean, did she just say she wasn't going to kill herself? People like that—people who are that desperate—they'll just tell you what you want to hear." He'd thought about it often enough. Lied about how he was feeling, pushed people away when they got too close to the truth...

At-ye gives him a sharp look and then huffs. "Of course, I know that. I asked her if she had a family or someone she could talk to. She used her communication device to talk to her parent. Then I had her call the innkeeper and waited until she could come to the room to help. I didn't want her to be alone."

That sounds reasonable. He doesn't know if he would have thought of that.

"Also, I could feel from her mind that she was not fully committed to doing this. I believe that is one of the reasons she hesitated last night. The other was her connection to you. The fact that we were here to help when she needed it. She believes that coincidence was a sign from the Gods that she should not do this."

 _It's certainly a sign of something_ , Stephen thinks.

 

***

 

Later, Stephen, At-ye, and Wong are standing in the Rose Room, staring at the mirror.

Stephen turns to Wong. "What do you think it is?"

The other man grunts. "Ugly."

Stephen tips his head in agreement. "But what is it?"

"It's not a magical artifact. Not exactly. Which is probably why you had trouble identifying it. That and, well... other things." Wong sighs dramatically.

Was that a subtle dig? Stephen can't even tell anymore. He looks at Wong suspiciously. "Master Rendon couldn't identify it either."

"You're right, he couldn't." Wong pauses. "And look what happened to him."

Now, _that_ was definitely an insult. "Well, what is it then?"

"It's called a fulcrum. It's an anchor point between all of the universes."

At-ye jumps up next to him. "I believe I've heard of such a thing. On my world. We have something like this. It is a rock. A djurikitil."

At least, that's what the word sounded like to Stephen's ears—the translation spell has apparently given up. "A what?"

At-ye purrs. "A tall rock that stands. It is supposed to be a connection point between dimensions. I've never heard of one that was a thing made by people."

"A fulcrum can be anything," Wong says. "They take many forms. This mirror exists in all of the universes simultaneously. In this form. The same mirror."

Stephen wonders why he's never heard about anything like this before. "Is that even possible?"

"We live in an infinite multiverse. Anything's possible."

Stephen hums in agreement. He should be used to that by now... "What should we do about it?"

"Nothing," Wong says. "It's not dangerous under normal circumstances. And it cannot be moved, even if we wanted to move it." He really doesn't seem at all surprised or even concerned about anything Stephen and At-ye have just told him. It's highly suspicious. Stephen's starting to wonder if any of this was a coincidence at all.

And he still has questions. "Why? What happens if you try to move it?"

"Nothing. This is where it wants to be. Right in this spot. In every world. It won't be moved."

That still doesn't make any sense. "So... I wouldn't be able to just... take it down off the wall?"

Wong smiles slightly. "Be my guest..." He tips his head at the mirror.

"Okay." Stephen's sure Wong knows what he's talking about, but he can't just let something like that go untested.

At-ye watches curiously as he grabs the edges of the mirror and tries to lift it off the wall. Awkward as hell with the cast. Nothing happens—the damn thing refuses to budge even an inch. He's not ready to give up, though. Not yet. Stephen turns around and frowns. "A little help here?"

At-ye hops up onto the dresser, grabs on with all four hands. And the two of them spend an embarrassing couple of minutes trying to rip the thing off the wall.

"It's really stuck," At-ye finally concedes. Even if someone bolted it to the wall, they should be able to wiggle it or break the plaster. But the mirror is literally unmovable.

Wong is just standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, watching them struggle and looking smug.

"Hold on..." Stephen can't just accept that a damn mirror can never be moved. There has to be more to this... "How did it get into this house and on the fucking wall in the first place? Someone had to put it here, right? Where was it before this house was built?"

Wong shrugs. "We may never know..."

Stephen shakes his head. Wong isn't going to give him any answers—he'll just have to look it up later. "Isn't there some way to... neutralize it? Keep the universes separate? So this doesn't happen again?"

"So what doesn't happen again?"

Is Wong being deliberately obtuse? "You know..." He waves his hand at the bathroom, frustrated. "Last night I tried to swallow a bunch of pills..."

Wong just shrugs. "You were never in any danger. The bond between the two of you is too strong. Even stronger now than it was before you came here." Wong gives Stephen a knowing look. "Nothing would have happened."

Stephen looks over at At-ye. The little alien doesn't seem convinced.

Wong shakes his head at them like they're both idiots. "The two of you are thinking about this the wrong way. You may have saved a life today. The mirror made that possible." He tucks his hands behind his back, smiles serenely. "The mirror wasn't the problem. It was the solution."

 

***

 

The next order of business is explaining everything to the Davidsons. More explaining—he hates it. But they take it surprisingly well.

"Oh, that's a relief!" Mrs. Davidson hugs Mr. Davidson's arm. "I thought we had a real ghost in there! But, they're just people, aren't they? Regular people just having a nice weekend away from the city. Or on their honeymoon... Hotel guests. They're just... someplace else."

Stephen can be diplomatic. "That's a nice way of looking at it," he says. "Anyway, I don't think the mirror is actually dangerous. It's just, uh... stuck in there."

Mrs. Davidson waves that off. "Oh, that's not a problem. We've both always loved that mirror. I don't think we'd ever want to get rid of it. Came with the house, you know, when we bought it."

"I... believe that."

"And it really ties the room together," she adds. Mr. Davidson nods in silent agreement.

Ties more than that together, Stephen thinks.

"We've decided to just be upfront with our guests and advertise the Rose Room as a one-hundred percent certified haunted place by an actual Sorcerer. Might attract a a certain type of clientele, but, as I said earlier, we welcome all types here." The Davidsons turn and smile at each other.

Stephen looks back and forth between the two of them. "But, it's not, uh..." He shakes his head once, smiles. "You know what? Never mind."

That was easy. Stephen and At-ye glance at each other.

"So... can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure thing, hon."

There's just one more, small mystery that's been bothering him. "How did you get my number?"

"Oh, well... A couple weeks ago, a former guest called to complain about that room. He'd had a very restless night there, apparently. Anyway, he suggested I call you straight away. Was very insistent, now that I think about it. He also knew about magic. Said you'd be able to figure out the problem—that you were the only one who could. Gave me your number and everything. Such a nice man..."

"You don't happen to remember his name, do you?"

"Something Asian. Maybe... Wang?"

 _Of course._ "Was it Wong?"

"That's it! You know... now that I'm thinking about it... I don't recall a guest with that name ever staying here."

"Oh, I'm sure he was here." Stephen smiles. _In spirit, maybe..._

 

_***_

 

Stephen packs up the few things they've left around the room, while At-ye throws pillows back onto the bed. He'd managed to soak up most of the water on the bathroom floor, but gave up when he ran out of towels. He supposes the Davidsons won't mind too much, considering.

"That's it then. We're done here." At-ye seems disappointed.

"Yeah, I guess we are." Stephen's still not sure how he feels about Wong setting this up. He runs his left hand over his beard. _Shaggy_. He needs his right hand back so he can shave properly. Shaving spells just aren't the same. "Yeah. I guess we're done here."

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

At-ye grins at him, baring sharp white teeth. "Unless you want to try touching mouths again..."

Stephen regards his friend, curious. "You really want to do that? I thought that was just you... acting out of character."

"Maybe it was," At-ye purrs. "But I enjoyed it. And now I have a new idea. This time... I want to borrow your body. And you can borrow mine."

Stephen grins. He's never done that before. Should be interesting... "Deal."

At-ye wraps furry arms around him, clicks in his ear, "And you can show me how humans use pillows for sexual reproduction."

 

***

 

"So... did your friend go back to his... planet?" Christine puts down the cast saw. "Flip your arm over."

Stephen's ears are still ringing from the noise of the saw and the vacuum. He twists his arm palm up on the table so Christine can get at the other side. "Yeah. Ze went back." He's actually a little depressed about it. The Sanctum can get pretty quiet sometimes. Lonely. Having At-ye around was a nice distraction.

He decides not to bring up Christine and At-ye's little conspiracy against him. They were only trying to help, even if he finds it slightly irritating. And she hasn't tried to have him committed yet, so At-ye must have kept zir promise not to say anything.

Christine's eyes crinkle above her surgical mask. Stephen can tell she's smiling at him. "Oh, right... 'ze'," she says teasingly. "I forgot that aliens don't have genders like we do."

Stephen frowns at her. "Not all aliens."

"Not all aliens..." Christine repeats, shaking her head. "Your life is so weird now." She picks up the saw again and starts it up, slowly moving it down through his cast.

Stephen turns his head away and presses his lips together. Even with the vacuum working there's still a lot of dust flying around. And getting bits of the damn cast in his mouth is not appealing. At least it will be gone soon. He'd pestered Christine until she'd agreed to take it off for him. He didn't think he could stand another appointment with Kowalski.

Finally, she shuts the saw off and picks up the cast spreader. "Right." A few quick snips through the cotton and the sock, and his arm is finally free.

His white, disgusting, flakey arm. Stephen twists it around, inspecting it. No swelling, not too atrophied. He flexes his wrist experimentally. His arm feels weak, but there's not much pain.

"I'd feel better if you let me get one more x-ray," Christine says. She pushes her surgical mask down, so she can give him her best sad face. It's not going to work on him.

"But I wouldn't feel better." Stephen smiles at her. "It's fine. Thanks for helping me out."

Christine sighs. "Fine." She pulls out the stitches over his eye and then frets over the wound on his shoulder, finally changes the bandage. And then they both get busy cleaning things up. "So..." she starts. "The haunted hotel room wasn't actually haunted, huh?"

"No, not really." It's a little disappointing actually, Stephen thinks. Maybe the next haunting will actually be a ghost, and not some random thing he's never heard of before. A ghost, he might actually be able to deal with. This fulcrum thing, on the other hand, was not what he expected.

He's still trying to figure out how Wong set everything up, because now he's sure that's exactly what happened. Wong must have known how everything was going to play out, but he'd made that call to the Davidsons well before Stephen broke his arm. And... the broken arm was the key to creating the link to the woman from the other world. Without that connection, he doubts they would have been able to save her. It makes Stephen's head hurt just thinking about it. He tosses some old bandages in the biohazard bin.

Christine is still talking. "So... what's the next exciting adventure? Vampires? Werewolves?"

She's joking, but there have been reports of increasing vampire activity in parts of Kansas. He might have to go check it out. Christine probably doesn't want to hear that, though. Stephen shrugs. "Nothing too exciting... In a couple weeks I'm going to visit At-ye on zir homeworld. See what it's like. Hang out with zir kids and grandkids." It's a social visit. And also a good opportunity to establish formal relations between their two peoples.

She smiles at him. "Sounds exciting. But not too exciting, I hope. I swear, if you come back with anything else broken..."

"Relax. I'll be fine."

He could really use a vacation. Something easy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, done! Thanks for reading my silly little story. Hope you enjoyed it :)


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